


Forgive Me, Father

by malfxy



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Father, Abusive Parents, Eventual Drarry, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Eventual relationship, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7518923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfxy/pseuds/malfxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way Lucius treats Draco that day in Knocturn Alley is way too familiar to Harry, and it doesn't sit well with him. By helping Draco out of one sticky situation, will he make an even stickier mess for the both of them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Diagon Alley and Beyond

Based on THIS Tumblr post: http://smellslikelesmiserables.tumblr.com/post/147318608707/marauders4evr-harry-potter-au-where-harry-is 

"Speak clearly now, dear, wouldn't want to end up shooting out of the wrong fireplace, would we," Mrs. Weasley smiled, bright face reassuring but eyes weary with concern for him. 

Harry was unfamiliar to the event, both the worry in Molly's eyes as well as the new form of transportation. She thrusts a small pot filled to nearly the rim with powder, encouraging him to take a handful. 

"So, what exactly do I need to do again?" 

Molly stepped back from Harry, handing the pot of powder to Arthur. There was a rush to answer his question, each Weasley adding a different piece of advice, all at once. 

"Just throw down the powder!" 

"There will be a load of green flames and-!" 

"You've just gotta say where you'd like to go and then-!" 

Molly raised her voice to speak over her bustling children, an exasperated smile on her face. She looked to Harry, who seemed to already have prepared to throw down his floo powder. She made a move to quickly give him one last tip. 

"Make sure to speak very-" She was cut off by the sound of Harry mumbling his desired destination. 

"Uh, D-Diagon Alley!" 

"Clearly." Molly finished. 

Harry slid out of the soot filled floo, finding himself on the floor of a poorly lit shop piled high with artifacts looking to be the future possessions of dark wizards. At first glance, he saw more "caution" and "beware" signs than he could count on one hand, and he realized at once that this was no shop to be found in Diagon Alley. He rose with a great deal of caution from the floor, making sure to pick up his conveniently snapped glasses from below him. Brushing his red lined robes off to rid them of soot, he found particular interest in an item across the shop. Blurry as his vision was, he decided to let curiosity get the best of him, and made his way to it. 

As he approached the item, he found it to be a wrinkly, withered hand resembling that of a zombie, sitting erect from a stand of some sort, almost as if it were an award or plaque. His hand crept toward it, and the moment he made contact with the hand's rough thumb, the hand clamped down onto his, trapping him against the cool metal of the stand. He tugged at his arm, anxiously looking around in hopes that no one was in the shop to see his struggle. Just his infamous luck, he saw a boy approximately his age, undeniably strutting his way to the shop outside the windows, bleach blonde hair glinting in the sun, elegant green trimmed robes rushing to follow his path. He mentally kicked himself for getting into such a predicament, especially with the one and only Draco Malfoy to soon appear and surely, almost positively, make fun of him for it. To make matters worse, Harry spotted a middle aged man, long blonde hair flowing with his movements, cold grey eyes identical to Draco's. His father- Harry presumed. With one final, desperate tug, he managed to reclaim his limb. He searched frantically for an escape route, convincing himself he could make it away from the two Malfoys if he were to just move quickly enough. Almost as soon as he'd planned to escape though, his body had seemingly planned to pick a hiding spot, and hastily, he made a move to duck away from sight, saving him from the incoming taunts that were sure to come from Draco. Harry had rushed into a large black cabinet the exact moment he heard the door chime, scarily welcome, alerting the shop of the Malfoy family's entrance. 

From the crack in the cabinet, Harry managed to spot Draco's grey eyes widen in eagerness at all the shop had to offer. Unlike Harry, Draco was unaffected by the warning signs on the items, his face forming a look of enthusiasm at the many assorted options. The blonde boy reached his hand up as if to touch something that had caught his eye, but his action was ceased by his less than amused father catching Draco's hand with his walking stick. 

"Don't touch anything, Draco," a stern voice snapped, and Harry singled down the potential owners of the voice until he decided that more likely than not, it was Draco's father's. 

"Yes, Father." 

The tone of Mr. Malfoy's voice was one that was all too familiar to Harry, Draco's shaky, obedient response mirroring that of Harry's own when responding to his aunt and uncle. Something inside Harry swelled. 

Draco's father proceeded to participate in an exchange with the owner of the shop, leaving Draco to continue marveling at the frightening, yet oddly intriguing items of the shop. Following a bit of rustle and near silence, seemingly out of nowhere, Draco exclaimed from the part of the shop Harry himself was drawn to upon his arrival. 

"I want this, Father!" 

The shop owner scurried over to Draco enthusiastically, abandoning a less than impressed Mr. Malfoy at the front counter awaiting the finale of his transaction. 

"Ah, the Hand of Glory! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has a fine taste, sir." 

Draco and the shop owner continued to appreciate the item together, coldly interrupted by Mr. Malfoy's presence stalking behind them. 

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer," Malfoy began, "although, if his grades fail to pick up, that may be all he is good for. Now, where were we, Borgin?" 

Harry recognized the thing that swelled from the deepest pit of his gut at Mr. Malfoy's words. He recognized it from all the times Petunia had insulted his mother and father, all the times he had been denied dinner for something that he hadn't caused, all the times voices were raised at him in the Dursley household for rather silly situations, all the times he'd been locked away in his room. It was anger. But it was clear Malfoy had not the same feelings. Judging by his reaction to his father's seemingly constant torment, Draco's stiff posture and wide eyes while being viciously scolded, Draco felt fear in response to the behavior. But Harry, Harry was never scared. And now that Harry had seen Mr. Malfoy's treatment of Draco, Harry felt the anger that Draco was too frightened to have. Harry was angry enough for the both of them. 

"Ah, yes, my apologies, Mr. Malfoy." 

As quickly as the store owner scurried to Draco's side, he scurried back behind the counter to complete he and Mr. Malfoy's unfinished business, once again leaving Draco alone. He paced up and down the dark aisles, reaching out to poke and prod at certain items albeit his father's instruction, yet more hesitantly, as if to make it easier to pull back and deny his curiosity if his father managed to catch him. Inevitably, the younger of the Malfoys found his way to the cabinet where Harry was hiding. His bewildered expression through the crack of the doors told Harry that Draco must've suspected something. Draco's eyebrows furrowed, attempting a peek through the crack that Harry was looking at Draco through. Again, just Harry's luck, Draco began to reach for the handle of the cabinet. 

"What did I say, Draco?" 

Harry heard the sound of Mr. Malfoy's cane once again stopping Draco dead in his tracks, and through the crack in the cabinet, Harry could see the fear in Draco's eyes. 

"Touch nothing," Draco responded, his voice trembling slightly. 

There it goes again. That swell inside of Harry. He couldn't help but wonder what else Mr. Malfoy hit with that cane, couldn't imagine if this is how he talked to Draco in public environments what he must say to Draco in private. And before Harry knew it, his anger had gotten the best of him, like so many times at home with his aunt and uncle. A breeze picked up; it was almost if the beginning of a storm was brewing from within the shop. Elixirs and knick knacks fell from the countless shelves around them, and any that managed to land on heads most certainly landed on Lucius. While Lucius was particularly distracted with an elixir of sorts that had busted over his head and soaked into his certainly expensive robes, Harry busted from his hiding spot, nearly hitting Draco with the cabinet door in the process. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness fell over Harry, and he grabbed Draco's arm. He grabbed Draco's arm and he ran. 

Harry was out of the shop much quicker than he had come in, Malfoy trailing behind him, holding his arm. Once they'd made it past the shop doors, Harry was running, he was pushing through crowds of hooded, cloaked, elegant yet darkly dressed people. He pushed past crowds that looked rich, similar to Draco, and he shoved through crowds of those who were more on the scraggly side. But he did not know where he was going. Draco seemed to sense this, this aimless running, as if running from a predator, which, he supposed, they sort of were. The first alley that was available, Harry ducked into, Malfoy following. For an athlete, the running had made Harry grow tired, and the two of them panted in the even more poorly lit alley. 

"Potter?!" 

But it was not a protest. And Harry knew it. 

It was apparent, however, considering the way Mr. Malfoy came out of the shop, fuming, that he was not happy, and that he might perhaps want revenge. And this time it was Draco who grabbed Harry and began running. 

Harry had no idea where they were, or where they were going, but he was sure as hell going to run as fast as he could, trusting Malfoy's instinct, and hope to everything holy that he made it out of the area alive. Judging by the way Draco ran, he had a sense of direction here, a bit of familiarity in the area where Harry had none. And that's when they saw the first green blast of magic blast a stone corner right by their running path. 

"What was that?!" 

Malfoy looked back at Harry, terror in his eyes. 

"Was it green?" 

"Yes!" 

"Nothing good then." 

Draco is quick to yank the two of them around a corner, pulling on Harry's arm much more roughly than even the Hand of Glory had, running up steps to a more well lit area. Harry recognizes it as where he initially was meant to travel to. Diagon Alley. 

Molly Weasley, with her flock of red headed children trailing behind her, begins to make her way into a book shop. Ron is tugging at her sleeve. 

"Mum! Mum, look! It's Harry!!" 

Draco leads the two of them to safety with the Weasley family. By the time Mr. Malfoy emerges from the darkness of Knocturn Alley, Harry sees clearly why the Malfoys had chosen it over Diagon Alley. The light and warmness of Diagon Alley sat uncomfortably on Mr. Malfoy's shoulders, and it was no doubt he looked out of place. Before Harry could wonder if he had looked as out of place in Knocturn Alley, Molly and Arthur had taken over, firing less aggressive but equally as effective spells at Mr. Malfoy in defense. More wizards jumped in to assist the Weasleys, firing at Lucius. Luckily, before he is able to cause any real damage, he is seized by a group of three men, presumably, considering their attire, affiliated with the ministry. As he is carried away, the group of red headed children is bustling again, enthusing about their parents' dueling skills. 

"Did you see the way they just came and took him away? Sure he'll be facing some serious charges for this one," Percy smiled, looking at his other siblings who were less than enthused with the legal side of things. 

"Alright, Percy, but did you manage to catch a look at the way Mum and Dad jumped in like that," Fred began. "Yeah! It was bloody brilliant," George finished. 

"And I helped," Ron began, "I even managed to get a shot in! Did you see it?" 

"That's complete rubbish," George began, "and you know it," Fred finished. 

"Alright, alright boys; that's enough," Mrs. Weasley began. "And Draco, are you alright? Harry?" 

The two nodded in response, still in shock from the encounter. 

"Good, good. Now, I think we should call it a day, yes? We've managed to get most of our books; we can come back another day to finish up our shopping. Arthur, I believe Ginny is helping other students pick up the books they dropped in all the fuss. The boys and I will head back in the floo, we can meet back at home." 

Arthur gave a nod, making his way in Ginny and Hermione's direction, presumably to give them a hand. Draco looked to Harry, concern etched in his features. When Mrs. Weasley said she would bring the boys back to the burrow, had Draco been included in the lot of them? 

After reaching the nearest floo, Molly insists that all the Weasley boys make their way in first and show Harry how it's done, considering the outcome of his previous floo travel attempt. The last three to travel through would be Harry, Draco, and Molly. Harry is first up of the three, and he steps into the fireplace, floo powder in hand. 

"Make sure to speak clearly, Harry. Clearer than last time would be ideal," Molly laughs, looking to Draco, resting a gentle, motherly hand on his shoulder. 

Harry locks eyes with Draco. Grey meets green, and green cannot even begin to count how many emotions are pooled inside of grey. Fear, confusion, regret, everything all at once swam in Draco's grey orbs, and in an instant, Draco lost eye contact with Harry and his lost, grey eyes were greeted with a burst of green flame.


	2. Home is Where the Heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people, and he will most certainly NOT open up to Potter, especially as a last resort.

All that mattered to Draco was that when he passed between Diagon Alley and the burrow through that floo, Harry was there, expecting him on the other side. 

Green eyes reconnected with grey, and Harry smiled.

"I believe it's safe to say you had a smoother travel than I did on the way through!"

Draco held Harry's gaze another moment, failed to respond, and averted his gaze to the floor.

Draco's stomach was in a knot. He intended to respond, he really did, had his throat not been clogged with every question he knew he wanted to ask. There were tears welling up in his eyes that he dare not allow to fall, and he found his face twisted up in a pained scowl.

"Malfoy? Are you okay?"

A gentle, familiar hand took hold of his arm, much less urgent this time. The same hand encouraged him out and away from the soot filled fireplace. 

Draco failed to answer yet again.

He was pained by unanswered questions in a way he felt he would fail to express, so as well as they remained unanswered, they were also unasked. The train to Hogwarts would arrive upon the dawning of the next day, which would ensure Draco was not feeling all too out of place for long. He assumed his mother ought to know the news by now, and if not, she would eventually by word of the Weasleys, or his father, or whoever's custody he had fallen into after being dragged from the scene. Draco failed to identify if the men who had taken initiative to rid Diagon Alley of his father were his heroes or not. 

Draco's attention wavered, turning to Arthur and Molly passing through the floo, one after the other, Ginny following. It was no time before all of the red headed children were once again stirring, all but applauding their mother and father's quick instinct and bravery. Harry did not leave his side. 

"Alright, boys, boys! And Ginny, dear, of course. How about we set this aside? I'm sure dinner must be ready by now! Kids, will you help me set the table?"

As quickly as they had arrived, Molly and the children dispersed in a frenzy.

Draco swore he could see Ginny look up at her mother to ask, "Mum, will Draco be staying with us?"

And he swore he could hear her reply. 

"I'm not sure, darling."

Arthur seemed to notice Draco's discomfort.

"You'll be off to Hogwarts again in no time, son. But, for now, are you hungry?"

Arthur smiled down at him, the question still lingering in the air. Harry's eyes took to Draco as well, who was still awfully concentrated on maintaining his staring contest with the floor. 

Finally lifting his gaze, he failed to lock eyes with Mr. Weasley, but still made sure to look in his general direction. His father had said a lot of things to Draco, yes, but one of them was always that Malfoys should use their manners and hold their heads high. Draco couldn't help but to feel that he fell short of following these rules, but he didn't care. His father wasn't around to scold him for it, and he happened to lack care for whether Mr. Weasley would be understanding of it or not. The question still held high in the air.

Draco's eyes welled with fresh tears, and he gave a slight nod.

He would not dare to capture Harry's worried gaze.

"Well, go on then, son, don't be shy."

Arthur's tone was gentle with him, as if he were as fragile as a doll, and he gently led both Harry and Draco to the dinner table, squeezing them into spots of their own. The Weasley dining room table had seemingly reached its full capacity, as if it wasn't jam packed already. Draco let the word "son" sit sour on his shoulders and heavy in his heart.

All through dinner, it's almost as if the Weasleys couldn't see him, especially the other children, who coldly yet simultaneously politely ignored him. Molly and Arthur spoke to him momentarily, asking him if he enjoyed the food, to which he gave a polite confirmation, the first words he had uttered since he arrived; that was the extent of the communication. They sensed his discomfort and seemed to leave him be, but Harry did no such thing. He sat beside Draco, occasionally leaning close to whisper questions and make an attempt at encouraging comments, but still failed to comprehend Draco's need for space.

"Are you enjoying your food?" Harry's green eyes darted between Draco's face and his plate, eyes burning into him, expectant of a response that Draco found himself exasperated to repeat.

"You really should, eat, Malfoy," Harry noted, returning to his own plate after noticing Malfoy had only been picking at his own.

He managed to not miss a beat, though, returning to Malfoy's ear to continue his attempts to contact him.

"If you'd like, I can ask them if they'd mind sending an owl to your mother. It might make you feel better?" Harry found his offer hanging in the air similar to Mr. Weasley's previous one, but found the difference was that Draco did not even attempt to acknowledge Harry's.

After receiving silence as his response, Harry retracted fully into his own seat, gaze dropping to his plate again. Draco's dismissal of his help left him baffled.

He leaned to Draco again, slower this time, his tone low and concerned.

"Malfoy. Are you feeling okay?"

Draco tired of the question. What an obvious question to ask, he figured, dense Potter. The damage to his glasses must've truly blinded him if he failed to see his own stupidity. Had it become a challenge, a game to Potter? Had Draco become some kind of code to decipher, some safe to unlock?

If Harry Potter believed that Draco Malfoy would succumb to his game, if he'd come undone, if he'd open, unlock, just for him, he had another thing coming. 

Draco was barely open with himself.

And just like that, all the Weasleys moved in a scurry to hand their plates to the sink, which moved tirelessly to clean them.

The only response Draco awarded Harry with was allowing him to take his plate to the sink for him.

 

 

As night fell, the Weasleys showed Draco and Harry to a guest bedroom to share, two beds with wooden frames and matching bedspreads standing crookedly, parallel to eachother.

Draco realized what he was missing. He felt himself cave, turning to Potter rummaging through his trunk.

"Potter." His voice wavered, uttering Harry's name taking too much out of him.

"Hm?" Harry turned to face the other boy's bed.

"I haven't any clothes. My trunk with all my things is at home, with my mother."

Harry hurried to pull something from his open trunk, its contents beginning to cover the bed.

"I'm sure your mother will make sure your trunk has found a way to Hogwarts in time for your arrival tomorrow."

"I trust that it will. And um," Draco paused, reluctance to thank Harry pooling inside of him. 

Harry looked at Draco to finish his thought aloud. Draco never did.

Harry gave a light, polite smile, turning to face his bed and beginning to change into a set of pajamas himself.

Draco's face flushed red, what on Earth did Potter think he was doing?! Stubborn on the idea that he would not communicate further with the other boy, Draco turned to face the opposite direction.

Surely there was a bathroom near or somewhere he could've begun changing on his own, but if it was absolutely necessary that they change in the same vicinity, Draco figured he'd favor taking advantage of Potter being turned the other way, and he rid himself of his green lined robes. He tugged on a set of muggle pajamas that belonged to Harry, right down to their scent. Turning around, Harry had begun repacking his trunk and laying out his Gryffindor robes for the train in the morning. 

Harry's shirt fell loose on Draco's body, exposing his pale shoulder, and the pants barely held their grip on Draco's thin waist.

How bloody embarrassing. Harry Potter, of all people, would be seeing him like this. Hair no longer slicked back, in ill fitting muggle clothes, fatigued and upset and every emotion all at once.

 

It had been a while since Draco had laid down to rest, now, but he hadn't caught a wink of rest.

Where would he go when summer came again? Holiday break, even? Would he return home, and would it really be home? Would his father have found his way back? Would his mother write him? Would his mother send his things to Hogwarts in time for his arrival? Would his father be arrested? Why hadn't his mother been in contact with him when he and his father hadn't returned home?

What had Mr. and Mrs. Weasley whispered to one another when they remained in the dining room following dinner, sitting close and speaking low, eyes flickering occasionally to Draco? Had Mrs. Weasley's sorrowful eyes felt pity for him?

Needless to say, Draco found himself wondering of endless variables involved in the current situation. His eyes were glued to the ceiling.

"Malfoy," a whisper called, "Are you awake?"

Draco turned his head to see Potter, also awake, facing him in the bed across from his own. It seemed he had remembered the spell to fix his glasses by now, as he scrambled against the bedside table for them, placing them brand new upon his face.

"Are you okay?"

Again, to say the least, Draco was tired of this question.

There was a beat of silence.

And the one sided interactions from throughout the night finally gained Draco's participation.

"To be quite honest with you, Potter, no, I am not alright."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"If you could've just minded your own bloody business, Potter!" 

Draco's voice breaks and trembles as more words pour from him.

"My father is off to Merlin knows where, I haven't heard from my mother, and I'm in this place that I don't know, with people I've never spoken to before, and I'm sharing a room with you!"

Draco isn't sure when he starts crying.

"Why do you have to always be the hero, Potter? I'm sharing a room with you even though this is all your fault, all because you wanted to be the hero of the story, just because you wanted to save the day again!"

Harry's face fell.

"Malfoy, I was just trying to-"

"I don't care what it is you thought you were doing, Potter! I don't need saving! My life isn't yours to meddle with! Just, Potter, do us both a favor and leave me alone. If you think I need your help so badly, forget it, because I don't, and now you've come and ruined everything!! I want to go home, I want to see my mother, my father. I want to be in my own bed, not stuck here with you!"

Draco chokes on his words as tears cascade down his face. 

He'd snapped. He's told Potter how he feels about it, and that should be the end of things. He would return to Hogwarts, and Harry would take to his own friends while Draco did the same. He could go on as normal, pretend this didn't happen. 

Draco turned over in his bed to face the wall, tears still parading down his face. The wetness soaked the pillow and Harry's pajama shirt, but he didn't care. His eyes burned, and he only hoped Potter wasn't too dense to realize Draco was done talking and that their exchange was over. He continued to hiccup on his sobs, not caring enough to wonder if Harry could hear him. Spitefully, he hoped his crying was audible to the other boy, hoped it made him aware of the inevitable destruction he had just offset in Draco's life.

What was he going to do?

It was then that Draco realized he had unraveled. He had fallen apart. He had been unwrapped, decoded, deciphered through the night. And he had snapped.

It was all because of Harry too, and Draco despised both Harry and even more, himself, for allowing it.

He was laid there, facing the wall, crying his eyes out. His throat felt raw from the way that he had screamed at Harry, and the few contents in his stomach felt sour and unwelcome inside of him.

You need to pull yourself together, he told himself.

And it was all because of The Chosen One. The Golden Boy. The Boy Who Lived.

Draco had come completely and undeniably undone in front of, for, and because of none other than Harry Potter.


	3. Absence of Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Burrow is lovely, as is the family who inhabits it, but Draco Malfoy cannot help but feel thrilled to escape the place. Questions about his father clog his train of thought, and honestly, he could not be more happy to board that train, and hopefully, to feel normal again.

"Malfoy, are you excited? We're going to be second years!"

Ha. Excited? Draco had other things on his mind that needed to be confronted first.

Draco failed to describe himself as "excited" for the upcoming year; he even fell short of saying he was at least mildly enthused. Had it not been for previous events, Draco would be boarding the train with his usual friends, his usual scowl, his usual trolley stacked neat and tall with his things, with his usual family members to lead him to the platform.

But this was not a normal or familiar situation, which is easy to take note of. The only thing Draco could see himself excited about was boarding that train, and hopefully, if all went well, returning to normality. And his blood boiled more and more fiercely with every minute he was kept waiting.

As he turned to his left though, he still found a pair of green eyes with an over abundance of joy staring at him expectant of a response, so he figured it would be reasonable to force a quaint, polite smile. The green eyed boy was satisfied with the gesture.

As Draco, Harry, and each and every last red head of the Weasley family passed onto the platform, Draco felt a familiar scent fill his lungs. The train, all his classmates dressed in their house's appropriate robes; Draco had never felt more grateful to be on his way back to school.

"Now, boys, remember to watch after Ginny! She is a first year, after all!"

Ginny looked up at her mother in protest, only to be pulled into a bear hug complimented with a sloppy kiss to her forehead.

"Go on now, it'll be leaving any minute!!"

Fred and George went in for their hug next, sandwiching Arthur and Molly between them and answering in unison: "Yes, Mum!"

Percy followed, Arthur giving him a firm pat on the back and Molly giving him a forehead kiss as well, both parents holding an all knowing look that said "We won't have to worry about this one."

Ron and Harry went in for a hug together, Molly and Arthur embracing Harry almost as if he was a part of the family.

After they broke apart, Molly looked at Draco expectantly.

"You too, love; don't be shy!"

Draco's face heated and he was sure his pale complexion and the blood rising to his skin was sure to give him away.

"It's just a hug, dear," Molly concluded.

All Draco's life, he had been told that certain wizarding families were better than others. He had been taught that pure bloods were at the top of the food chain. Well, pure bloods minus the Weasley family. His father had spoke to him about the Weasleys, describing them as nothing but lowly, poor, dirty, muggle loving blood traitors. 

And for the first time in his life, Draco began to question his father's judgement.

With a quick muster of every ounce of his courage, Draco Malfoy hesitantly stepped forward to greet Molly and Arthur Weasley in a stiff hug.

"Ron! Harry!" 

Draco broke from the hug with an awkward smile and turned to see Harry and Ron being all but tackled by none other than Hermione Granger, which he realized, didn't have the best impression of the Malfoy family. When she stepped back from her attack on her two friends, she spotted Draco behind them, cocking an eyebrow.

She tilted her head to the side in apprehension, breaking into a forced, polite smile.

"Draco. Nice to see you, as well."

Draco gave a nod to her.

"Well, come on, the train is about to leave," Hermione urged, giving a light tug on both Harry and Ron, who began to follow. Draco hesitated, not wanting to intrude on the trio, especially when he had his own friends. After deciding the three were a safe distance in front of him, he made his way to the train.

 

Draco walked down the aisle of the train for his usual group of friends, who were no where in sight. He checked their normal seats, as well as the seats around it, only to find the seats vacant or occupied by strangers. Damn them, he figured. Crabbe and Goyle were off to Merlin knows where and Draco was all alone, and quite embarrassingly so. He looked around frantically scanning the train with his eyes in search of a seat with people who might not be too bothered to have him. When he didn't see anyone in view, he continued his pacing up and down the aisles in search of a new seat. It was beginning to bring a tint of red to his face, and whether it was from all the pacing or the embarrassment, Draco wasn't sure.

When Draco frantically buzzed by Harry, Hermione, and Ron's seat, Harry spoke to him again.

"Malfoy! What's going on?"

"I can't find Crabbe and Goyle," he said flatly.

"Well, I know I may not be your first pick, but you're more than welcome to-"

Ron stood, a defiant look on his face, grabbing Harry's arm. He threw a glare in Malfoy's direction that failed to seem menacing.

"Harry. Are you mad?!"

"Ron. Are you mad?" 

Harry raised his eyebrows at the ginger, whose look of defiance faded, replaced with a gaze of indifference tinted with reluctance.

"Draco," Harry looked in Draco's direction, "can sit with us if he wants to."

Draco, feeling a smidge of guilt for seemingly barging in on the Weasley's life once again, handed a polite smile to Harry.

"I appreciate it, Potter, but I would hate to be a burden."

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing hold of Malfoy and pushing past Ron and back to their seats, Draco following.

"Don't worry about it. You can sit near the aisle, so if you see your friends, you can go sit with them. But you can sit here with us, it's okay."

Hermione didn't show displeasure on her face, but didn't show anything positive either.

Ron plopped down near Hermione with a sigh.

 

A good chunk into their journey, Draco had to admit he was still frantically scanning the aisle for sight of his friends. The atmosphere between the three Gryffindors and Draco was absolutely suffocating, Harry often trying to pitch a conversation in attempt to mend the crevasse between his friends and Malfoy. His jokes served as a band aid, covering up the split with awkward, forced laughs and mild participation from everyone present. 

Draco could admit he was dangerously close to dozing off, it was such a boring conversation. He wanted to escape.

No such resolution was gained as a shriek was heard through the train. It belonged to none other than Neville Longbottom.

Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione snap their heads in the direction of the outburst, only to settle back into their seats with relief as the panic was followed with a burst of giggles from everyone surrounding Neville.

"Trevor!" He shrieked again, causing another collection of giggles from the students around him. As the panic grew in his tone, the laughter became uncontrollable.

With amused annoyance, Hermione gave a scoff, adding, "What's he done this time?"

Ron rose in curiosity, making his way to the scene, Hermione following. 

Neville had somehow managed to transfigure his toad into a quill, unsure how to change his beloved Trevor back.

Hermione and Ron joined in on the laughter as they realized the predicament.

Draco was turned in the direction of the situation, a light smirk playing at his lips. Harry had other plans.

He took their one on one time to turn to Draco, look him in the eyes, and ask Draco the question he had tired of hearing from Harry in the past day.

"Malfoy, are you alright?"

Draco was almost tempted to be honest with him about it all.

No. He was most certainly not okay. The questions in his mind from the previous night still lingered, and he couldn't shake the worry of not knowing his father's fate. 

Despite it all, Draco was almost tempted to thank Harry.

He felt ridiculous about it, really. Alright, yes, Harry had protected him from his father's treatment, and he had led him to somewhere safe and warm for the night. Even if it wasn't Harry's business, Draco figured, he still did what he thought would be right.

Draco, in favor of his pride, decided against his thanks.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Potter?"

Draco rolled his eyes, looking for Harry's reaction. It seemed as if Harry would finally accept this as an answer.

The knots in Draco's stomach loosened.

"Why don't we go have a look at whatever Longbottom has managed to do?"

A smile played at Draco's lips. Harry returned it.

The pair rose from their seats together, joining the forming crowd around Neville.

"Neville! It's okay," Hermione said between giggles, "I know the spell to fix it!"

He looked at her in desperation, only sending her into more giggles.

"Calm down, Neville," she exclaimed with a laugh, reaching for her wand.

"Honestly, Neville! You'd think the world was ending, the way you're acting," Seamus teased, earning a laugh from Dean.

Neville turned to Seamus by his side, in complete distress.

"Well, Trevor's world could be ending!"

Harry and Draco looked to each other, amusement in their eyes due to the pure hilarity of the mishap.

Draco laughed.

Draco really, really laughed.

He doubled over, one hand on his mouth, another on his stomach, giggles wracking from his body in harmony with those of all the other students around.

Harry had never seen this side of Malfoy. He had never seen him ever look undoubtedly happy; he had never seen his grey eyes sparkle with joy as they did in this moment.

Harry took a mental note that he wished to see this side of Malfoy more often. And then, he laughed with him.


	4. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts is about to release students on holiday break, and Draco has never been more nervous to see his father.

The echo of laughter through the halls at Hogwarts resounded in the hearts of many, warm eyes and warm hearts making up for the falling snow and icy pavement outside the castle walls. Christmas was near, and the giddy feeling in the souls of all the students made for a highly anticipated holiday break, which was to begin when the train promptly came to Hogwarts to take students home on that very day. 

Draco, however, had not been home since the incident prior to the beginning of the year. 

His mother had sent his things to Hogwarts to be ready for him, as well as a letter explaining that she had heard what happened and that his father was home and well. In her letter, she informed him she had sent an owl to Molly and Arthur, showing her thanks for keeping Draco safe and fed that night. 

Which, yes, may seem a bit twisted considering, hey, Draco's father just got hauled off to Merlin knows where, and Molly and Arthur just took it upon themselves to show him to safety for the night before alerting anyone of their plans to do so. But, none the less, their intentions were good, and Draco had returned to Hogwarts with no harm done, and as a mother, Narcissa was grateful. But Lucius? Although his mother did not include it in her letter, Draco was sure his father would give him an earful about his opinions on the situation and a fierce scolding for running with Harry. He was surprised he had not yet received a howler. Draco couldn't lie to himself any longer- he was afraid to return home for the holiday. 

He wasn't ready to return home to his father. He wasn't ready to hear him talk and talk about the morality of the Weasleys and the financial side of their family. He wasn't ready to hear his father curse Harry Potter's name at the dinner table with his face twisted in a scowl. He wasn't ready for he and his mother to sit in an uncomfortable silence while listening to his father's negative speech about the superiority of the Malfoys. Draco had finally gotten out enough to find that he no longer agreed with his father. But, just as his mother, he wouldn't dare to speak one word against his father, or he'd really be in for it. 

Draco sat at the Slytherin table in the great hall, one of the last still lingering around after breakfast. He had finally found Crabbe and Goyle, what a miracle, who had both taken to running to their rooms to pack and prepare for holiday. Draco was ready for the train that would be arriving any minute, his stuff stacked up and relatively close to where he was sitting. He even dawned his silver and green striped scarf in preparation for the incoming and unforgiving sting of the snowfall outside. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione were also some of the last still hanging about the great hall, excitedly chattering and Ron of course still munching down the last of what he could manage. 

Draco looked up to find Harry staring at him a few times, and hoped the Slytherin table was far enough from the Gryffindor one so that Harry would not notice Draco's blush. 

Draco had even decided it wise to pull out a book and make himself look busy in hopes that Potter would stop his stupid staring, but no such luck. Draco couldn't even manage to comprehend the ink laid on the page; his mind was whirring with thoughts and questions and just downright annoyance. Why couldn't Potter just keep his eyes to himself? Draco could still feel the burning hole that was being stared into him by the green eyes across the hall, even if his head was stuck in a book. He was sure if he looked up to lock their eyes, his blush sure would be noticeable now. 

Why was he getting all anxious about Potter staring? Or maybe he wasn't anxious. Maybe he was annoyed. 

Draco Malfoy was flushed, anxious, annoyed, scared and angry all at once, just because stupid Harry Potter with his stupid face and his stupid glasses and stupid scar were scaring at him. 

Until Fred and George bursted into the hall, arms stacked with hand wrapped gifts, and Draco could no longer feel the fierce burn of Harry's gaze. 

"Mum and Dad sent our gifts in!"

"More sweaters!"

The red headed twins placed the presents on the table in front of Ron, Harry and Hermione, stepping back to show off their hand made sweaters, fully complete with a "G" and "F."

Harry opened the box designated for him, pulling out a sweater of his own, Ron following suit. 

Harry put on the jumper with a smile, Ron tugging his on with a grimace. 

"But wait," Fred began, "There's still one more gift," George finished. 

George laid the box wrapped in green on the table for them to see, fully topped with a silver bow. 

"To Draco," Harry read to himself. 

Something in his stomach jumped upon reading the name. He remembered Draco's reluctance to return his glances just a moment ago, and it made him feel strange and uneasy. 

Ron groaned at the name on the tag, rolling his eyes. 

"Really?" He sighed. 

"Malfoy!!" Harry called to Draco from the Gryffindor table, "You've got a gift!"

Malfoy's eyes snapped up from his book, his blush mostly diminished but its remnants still apparent against his pale complexion. He gave a puzzled look. A gift? For him?

Harry waved him over, signaling him that he should come to open it. 

Draco rose, striding over to the Gryffindor table. 

He looked down at the gift, wrapped neatly in some places and torn in others, green wrapping paper topped with a neat, silver bow. He looked at the name tag, seeing it was addressed to him. Draco furrowed his brows. The Weasleys had thought of him?

He unwrapped the gift, exposing a handmade sweater of his very own, similar to those the other Weasleys and Harry were wearing. It was a neatly stitched green sweater, a canvas to the giant, silver "D" on the front. 

Amongst the now torn wrapping paper was a note from Molly that read:

"Hope it fits!"

Draco's face cracked into the warmest smile, and he tugged on the sweater. It was itchy and mildly uncomfortable, but it was his. It was warm and smelled of the burrow, and Molly had thought of him when she made it. He felt so happy he could burst. 

"Tell your mother I thank her very much, and that I love it."

Fred and George shared a glance, eyebrows raised in surprise at Malfoy's sincerity. 

Dumbledore peeked his head into the great hall, his boisterous voice bouncing off the walls. 

"For anyone who will be returning home for the winter holiday, the train is about to arrive."

He smiled, leaving and continuing his round up of students elsewhere. 

Draco smiled once again at the lot before turning to retrieve his stuff for the train. He caught up with Crabbe and Goyle on his way out, his appreciative glow throwing them off. 

"What's got you all happy? And what the hell are you wearing?" Goyle looked at him in disgust. 

"It was a gift," Draco responded, matter of factly. And it was a gift he was proud of. 

Crabbe furrowed his brows, looking at Draco. 

"Malfoy, you're not actually wearing that outside, are you?"

"I most certainly am, Crabbe. I already told you, it was a gift. Plus, it's conveniently warm which would be beneficial in the current state of the weather. And if you have an issue with my fashion choices, I'd suggest you keep it to yourself."

Crabbe and Goyle made no further comments. 

And as the three of them stepped outside, on their way to greet the train, Draco met the gold, crisp air with grace, his sweater keeping him warm. It even matched his scarf. 

Draco figured he could probably get away with wearing this the train ride home before taking it off. His father didn't have to know. 

Part of him even began to wish that he could've returned to the burrow for holiday break.


	5. What's In a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives an unlikely letter.

Sunlight poured into the Weasley burrow, basking each and every object in a warm, summertime glow. It was the morning of Harry's thirteenth birthday, the smell of Molly's celebratory cake already beginning to fill the house. Harry had already been awoken by a deafening Weasley family serenade of Happy Birthday, and all had since filed downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast.

"So, Harry," Arthur began, looking to Harry across the table, "How does it feel to be thirteen?"

Harry smiled, not even waiting to swallow his food before answering.

"I wish I could say it felt any different. Other than that though, pretty great."

Ron scrunched up his nose, scoffing, and shook his head at this, continuing to pick at his breakfast.

It was then that the Weasley family owl flew into the dining room through one of the open windows, landing on a counter, mail held in its beak.

Fred and George rushed to inspect the mail, sorting through them as a pair. Fred brought two or three envelopes to his father without a word, while George held the remaining mail and stared with a raised eyebrow.

"Both of these are for you, Harry," George started, stepping forward to where Harry was sat at the table, "one from Granger; the envelope even says 'Happy Birthday' on it! And then this one.." He stopped in his tracks. "Woah, what?"

Fred hurried back to George, peeking over his shoulder at the mail with curiosity. Upon seeing it, his face twisted up in confusion, mirroring the expression of George.

Harry turned around to look at them.

"What is it?"

Both of them glanced up from the mail to return Harry's glance, a smirk forming on Fred's face.

"You've got a letter from Draco."

Harry rose from his seat in an instant, closing the distance between himself and Fred and George, who still held the mail intended for him. As he stepped closer, George raised the letters above his head and out of reach, laughing as Harry raised his arms up and attempted to grab them.

"Someone's eager! You're quite excited to read what your boyfriend's sent you, aren't you Harry?"

Fred and George both laughed, Harry continuing to jump and reach for his mail.

Molly stopped the decoration of her cake to give the twins a glare, tilting her head down so that her gaze reached them from over her glasses. Both sighed, as if their fun had been ruined, and George dropped his arm, both envelopes falling to a height that Harry could now reach.

Harry snagged the opportunity immediately, ripping the letters from George's hand. A letter from Hermione was to be expected, as it was his birthday, after all, and he couldn't help but wonder what Malfoy's letter had in store for him. He tore open the envelope without mercy, unfolding the fresh, firm parchment that Malfoy had chosen for his message. Harry read it to himself, mildly audible to the rest of the dining room.

_Potter,_

_I will start off this letter by asking you kindly to please not send your response. My father has returned home, and has not met your actions with kindness, to say the least. If he were to find out I am writing you, he would have my head, really._

_I am aware I have not had the best relationship with you thus far, and I am also aware that I lashed out at you last summer when you were only attempting to help me. But, I ask your forgiveness, and I hope that you will accept this letter and accept my reluctant, yet formal apology._

_Really, I have just written you to check in, and to wish you a happy birthday._

_See you at school._

_-D. Malfoy_

Harry looked up from the letter, the entire family looking at him sadly. 

Arthur sighed.

"It's a shame, really. Someone who thinks so highly of himself seems not to think much for his son."

Harry's heart twitched thinking of what Mr. Malfoy could have said, or even worse, what he could've done to Draco upon returning home.

"Well, do you think there's anything we could-"

Arthur and Molly's sad glances at each other and then to Harry told him there was nothing that could be done; it was out of their hands now.

Harry plopped back in his seat, a tinge of sadness tugging at his heart.

There was a beat before Ron leaned closer to Harry, his voice low and questioning.

"What's this new obsession with Malfoy?"

Harry leaned away from Ron, seemingly offended by the question.

"Well," Harry regained his composure, "He's a friend."

Ron raised his eyebrows, returning to his breakfast.

 

 

It was once again time to board the train to Hogwarts for the new year. They were going to be third years now, and all that felt different about boarding the train this time is that Malfoy was not at Harry's side. Speaking of Malfoy, Harry had yet to see him on the platform, and the train was to leave any minute.

Hermione, much like the previous year, attacked the boys with affection, jumping on them with tight hugs and excited shrieks.

"Thank you for your birthday letter, 'Mione! I appreciated it!"

She pulled back from the hug, smiling and nodding.

"Of course, Harry!"

Ron tilted his head, mischievous amusement in his eyes.

"Harry got another interesting letter on his birthday, too."

Harry rolled his eyes, brushing off suspicions.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Ron? It was nothing but a happy birthday letter."

Hermione furrowed her brows.

"From who?"

"Malfoy," Ron said with surprised amusement.

"Really? That's unlike him, sending you well wishes like that."

"Well, I think we're on better terms now. Maybe we're friends."

Ron looked at Harry, seeming as if he was trying to hold in giggles.

"Speaking of Malfoy, have either of you seen him? I want to say thank you ."

Hermione, who was facing the boys, locked her eyes on something behind them, her face falling. She almost looked worried.

Ron and Harry turned to find what was so shocking to her, meeting the same sight. They understood her expression now.

Approaching the trio was the Malfoy family, Narcissa with her head held high, but an aura of melancholy tainting her atmosphere. Draco pushed a trolley, stacked high with expensive looking possessions. Lucius followed him, a firm, almost angry hand gripping Draco's shoulder.

The Malfoys spotted the trio almost as soon as the trio spotted them, Narcissa's face softening while Lucius' twisted into a sour scowl that he poorly attempted to hide.

"Granger, Weasley," Lucius began as the family passed them, showing intentions of leading Draco all the way to the train.

"Potter," he finished, an extra dose of venom spat with Harry's name.

Draco didn't even glance in the trio's direction. The three blondes continued on their path to the train, collecting Crabbe and Goyle on the way, pushing their trolleys beside Draco's.

It didn't seem like Draco would be sitting with Harry this time around.

Harry felt a pang in his heart as he realized he had just faced Draco's cold shoulder.

And as Draco bid farewell to his family and made a move to board the train, Harry swore that he could see a nasty, blue and purple bruise that discolored the skin around Draco's eye.


	6. Hopes Up High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like everyone around him is acting different all of a sudden, and Harry doesn't get it.

The announcement about the Yule Ball in fourth year sparked quite the curiosity among the students about who the Triwizard competitors would choose to ask as their date, which was to be expected.

Everyone who was even acquainted with Fleur, Krum, Cedric and Harry put on their best faces the week the ball was announced, the four receiving quite polite treatment from the student body, obviously to butter them up. It was not long before people were paired up for the dance, witches and wizards everywhere excited to dress up for the event and spend a night with whoever they'd agreed to go with. Harry, however, had no such luck with date ideas, much to the annoyance of Hermione and Ron.

They sat at the Gryffindor table one particular afternoon, Harry sulking over his pumpkin juice and hardly even picking at his lunch. 

"Harry, mate, could you stop being depressed for one second? Or maybe even better, spill what your problem is? This whole sulking act of yours is bumming me out."

Hermione looked at Ron in annoyance, and back to Harry with sympathy, who had taken a break from picking at his food to look up at them.

"No pressure, Harry, but really. What's wrong?"

Harry sighed, letting his fork clank down onto his plate.

"I asked Cho, alright? I asked Cho to the ball."

Ron and Hermione both perked up at this, leaning forward a bit in expectation of a conclusion.

"Well, out with it! What did she say?" Ron questioned eagerly, happy for his friend.

Harry's shoulders dropped a bit as he sighed, seeming to retract further into himself.

"She said no. She's already agreed to go with someone else."

Hermione and Ron leaned back into their seats, excitement fading.

"Do you presume she'll be going with Cedric? They've been spending an awful lot of time together."

Harry looked to Hermione sadly.

"I'm not sure. I guess so."

"Well, Harry, this is turning into a bit of an emergency. Who are you going to ask? I told you before that all the best girls would be taken if you waited this long!"

Hermione looked to Ron at her side, narrowing her eyes at his comment. 

"Well, Ron, have you made plans to ask anyone? I don't think it's fair for you to not take your own advice, is it?"

Ron narrowed his eyes back at her. 

"Oh, yeah? Well, what about you? What if I planned to ask you?"

Hermione looked away from Ron and back to her food, smirking.

"Well, I'd say that's unfortunate, as I've already been asked."

Ron furrowed his brows, jealously rising to his face in the form of a blush.

"By who?!"

"You'll have to see."

Hermione looked up from her food to find Harry sulking again, staring again at the meal he'd picked into a million pieces, poking it with his fork.

"Don't worry too much, Harry, I'm sure there's plenty of people who haven't found a date yet."

"Do you know anyone?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, Harry looking far too sad over this situation.

"Not off the top of my head, no," she hesitated.

"But I'm sure there might be someone you're neglecting to ask."

Ron looked at Hermione in disbelief.

"You don't mean-"

She cut his sentence off just by snapping her head in his direction.

Harry perked up at hearing this. Maybe he hadn't thought hard enough about his options.

"Maybe someone you wouldn't typically think of asking," Hermione concluded. "Think about it."

Satisfied with her hints, she picked up her bags and strode out of the great hall with a sense of urgency.

Harry sat for another moment, staring off at seemingly nothing with a thoughtful look on his face. He pondered what she had said to him.

Maybe someone he wouldn't typically think of asking, huh?

So, if there were still girls available in places he normally would not look, he just had to look harder. There were plenty girls he didn't know that knew him, and he found himself a bit less worried that he would have to attend the ball without a date. He figured he didn't have to go with someone that was a complete stranger, just someone he couldn't initially see himself going with. Hermione wanted him to look harder, and the more he pondered it, the more appealing the idea felt.

He looked at Ron, who seemed to be tossing the idea over in his head as well.

"Well, say we get going then?"

Ron snapped his eyes to Harry, nodding.

"Right."

They grabbed their things, standing and heading out of the great hall side by side.

And it was then, almost as if Hermione's advice was falling from the sky right in front of him, Parvati and Padma Patil were walking to the great hall, side by side. This must be what Hermione meant, right?

Harry, without thinking, seized the opportunity.

"Hey, Parvati! Do you have a moment?"

She and her sister stopped, looking at Ron and Harry. Ron picked up pretty fast on what was going on, not a complaint was uttered.

"I was wondering, well, we were wondering if you'd like to come with us to the Yule Ball."

The sisters looked at each other, both nodding at Harry and Ron in response. Ron smiled at Padma.

"That sounds great! We would love to."

The girls continued on their path to the great hall, both holding Harry and Ron's glance over their shoulders.

Once Harry and Ron broke eye contact with the girls, they looked at each other, goofy smiles playing on their faces.

"Why didn't I see it before, Ron? We wouldn't have thought to ask them, would we?"

"Probably not, no. Feels good not to be going to this thing alone."

"Tell me about it!"

The two friends walked and talked as they went along, presumably to the Gryffindor common room to catch up with Hermione, both happy not to be stuck in the embarrassing predicament of going stag.

 

Later in the evening, it was time for dinner in the great hall, and groups of students were making their way. Harry and Ron were still side by side, Hermione insisting she'd catch up in a moment, for she had a few more notes to take.

There was a particular excitement among the student body since the announcement of the Yule Ball, almost all the students bustling happily about the opportunity to celebrate. It was not only felt through the whispers and gossip about who was going with who, but in the overall atmosphere of the student population; Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were no exception to this hype.

About to walk into the great hall, Harry felt a hand grip his arm, his last name being called, giving a clear indication who had stopped him.

Harry turned around to the voice, his prediction being correct. Malfoy stood, his normal neat hair, perfect tie, and nicely pressed shirt greeting him.

Ron turned around in response as well, stepping up beside Harry as if he didn't trust Draco.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron said, looking down on him with a slight scowl. Draco looked offended.

"I mean no harm, Weasley. I just wish for a word with Potter."

Harry turned to Ron, Harry's expression telling his friend that he could handle it.

"Right, then. I'll save your seat, Harry."

Ron turned his back to head into the great hall, his last glance at Harry showing apprehension. 

"Don't mind him," Harry gestured at his friend.

"No, it's alright, really." Draco smiled lightly to Harry. Something was off about him, Harry noted. The polite exchange between the two felt slightly foreign, even if they were on much better terms. Draco was much more civil, and Harry met the behavior with delighted surprise.

There were a few beats of awkward silence between the two, Draco shuffling side to side, almost nervous. He avoided Harry's gaze, who was still looking at Malfoy expectantly. Something really was off about him.

Harry furrowed his brows at Draco's odd behavior.

"Is something wrong, Malfoy?"

Draco snapped his gaze back to Harry's, his cheeks lightly dusted with a blush.

"No! I'm fine, thank you. I was just.. Well, the Yule Ball-"

"Yes! I'm really excited actually," Harry had cut Draco off with his enthusiastic babbling, "I just asked Parvati today! Have you thought of who you want to go with?"

Draco's nervous expression fell. His eyes began to look glazed over; he stared at Potter while simultaneously staring at nothing.

He recovered quickly, life returning to his eyes once again.

"Not sure, actually. Maybe I'll just stay behind in the dormitories; I'm beginning to wonder if I want to go to the bloody event, anyway."

Harry thought nothing of the change in Malfoy's tone. Back to his snarky self.

"Aw, come on, Malfoy. You should give it a shot. I'm sure it'll be fun."

Malfoy gave a polite smile and a nod. 

"I'll consider it, Potter."

Without giving Harry a chance to respond, Malfoy made a swift move to enter the great hall, his shoulder bumping Harry's with a hint of animosity.

Harry, again, thought nothing of it, and made a move to follow him into the great hall. He spotted Ron, Hermione already sat next to him. He figured he'd probably just not noticed her entrance.

Plopping down in front of his two friends, he wasted no time in picking up his silverware to begin his dinner. He had hardly eaten lunch, after all.

Ron looked at Hermione, and then to Harry, who paused his action to return the stare.

"What?"

"Well, are you gonna tell us what the bloody hell that was about?"

"What? Malfoy?"

Ron raised his eyebrows and nodded, Hermione looking both intrigued and concerned.

"Oh, nothing, really. He started to mention the ball, so I told him how I'd asked Parvati this morning after breakfast. I asked who he was going with, and he said he might not be going, and he left. That's all."

Ron's face fell in disinterest, and Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"You asked Parvati?"

"Yeah, me and Ron are going with her and Padma. Why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, groaning at him. Ron kept his gaze on Harry. He had no problem with the arrangement this morning; Harry didn't get why he was looking so disinterested now.

"Do you not want to go with her, Ron?"

"This isn't about me, Harry."

"What?"

Ron turned his head, sharing a glance with Hermione, who looked all too annoyed with the situation.

Harry furrowed his brows.

"If you two wanted to go together, why didn't you work it out?"

It was Ron who rolled his eyes this time, bringing his palm to his forehead harshly. Hermione gave a laugh of disbelief.

"It's not about Ron and I, Harry."

Harry was confused. It was like she knew something. She was getting frustrated with him for not taking her hints, but Merlin, if she wanted something done, she should've just told him!

"You said to take someone I normally wouldn't ask, right?"

Hermione didn't answer; her eyes had fallen elsewhere.

Harry followed her gaze, turning around to see what she was staring at.

If he had followed her path of sight correctly, and he hoped he had, Harry was met with the pitiful view of Draco sulking over his meal, almost as Harry himself had done that morning. The blonde had his chin resting in his hand, looking sad and without an appetite. Pansy sat to his right, Blaise to his left. Blaise, who was looking at Draco, looked as if he pitied him, but failed to say anything that would contribute to cheering him up. Pansy sat closer to him, almost leaning on him, sharing his sadness and cooing things at him, presumably words of encouragement. His friend's words seemed to be no help. Harry didn't understand.

He turned around to face Hermione and Ron again; Hermione narrowing her eyes at him again.

"What?"

Ron looked up at him, an exasperated look on his face.

"What did I do?"

Ron shook his head, picking up his silverware to dig into his meal as Harry had a second ago. Hermione did the same, looking disappointed.

Harry was completely lost.


	7. Start of Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Yule Ball is not what Harry expected.

The Yule Ball was halfway through, and as far as Harry was concerned, it had been a modest success so far. You know, apart from the fact that he and Ron had all but bored their dates to death. 

Cho had attended with Cedric, proving Hermione's hypothesis correct. Harry had to admit, he did find himself staring over Parvati's shoulder at the pair while they danced, seeing that Cho looked more graceful in Cedric's arms than she ever would in his, who currently, held Parvati. As far as she was concerned, she could've picked a better dance partner. He awkwardly stumbled about while all the other Triwizard competitors spun their dates around with ease. Hermione, who it was revealed had decided to attend with Krum, looked astonishing in her dress, which was annoyingly obvious to Ron throughout the night. 

After the awkward and quite frankly pathetic dance, the Patil sisters took to sitting with Harry and Ron, who didn't seem to be all as interested in the ball as they were. They stared at the boys expectantly, waiting to be asked for a dance, and had eventually left the two boys to sulk on their own, Ron glaring at Krum the whole night. 

"You should've just asked her, you idiot."

Ron looked to Harry, irritation in his eyes. 

"I know. Shut up."

Harry began to wonder if there was someone else he could have, maybe should have asked. He thought back to what Hermione had said to him. Maybe he had looked in the wrong place altogether. 

Harry continued to look at Ron from the corner of his eye, who was slouched over a glass of punch, moping. It was then that he saw him. 

Draco Malfoy, who's absence Harry had not before noticed, was walking down the stairs, Pansy at his side. Harry stood, walking over to greet him at the bottom of the stairs. He failed to pay any attention to Ron's angry protests from behind him. 

Draco still had several stairs to walk down before he reached the bottom, and it seemed as if he was neglecting to acknowledge Harry. Harry eyed the blonde with every step he took, inspecting him from head to toe. 

Harry might dare to say that Draco looked magnificent if not for his raw, red rimmed eyes. The discoloration surrounding the area of his grey orbs painted itself rudely on his face, making his eyes appear puffy, an insult to his normally pale, flawless complexion. Harry could not imagine why Draco Malfoy could have been crying. 

His robes were green and silver, which were to be expected of him, elegantly flowing behind him as he walked down each step. His hair was slicked back, not one strand escaping the strict hair products he must've used. Pansy walked each step with him, but not close enough for them to bump shoulders. Harry found himself wondering if she was meant to be Draco's date. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Harry smiled at him. 

"Malfoy!! I didn't think you would be coming!!" He smiled to Malfoy, who returned with a polite grin, but would not meet his gaze. Harry motioned to Pansy. "Nice to see you've found someone to bring."

Draco looked to Pansy, muttering a small "Yeah."

She looked as if she pitied him. 

"Uh, if you want, Malfoy, I'm actually sitting over there with Ron." He motioned to where Ron sat, still sulking over his glass of punch. 

"He's being kind of a bummer, but you're always welcome, if you'd like."

Draco visibly perked up at Harry's offer, his eyes darting between Harry and Pansy. Pansy offered a light, sympathetic smile to him, as if to signal her approval. 

"You two have fun. I'll be with Blaise, Draco."

She gave him a soft pat on his shoulder before leaving. 

Harry showed Draco to the table he and Ron had been sitting at, finding Ron exactly where he left him. It didn't seem like he wanted to be bothered, eyes burning a hole in the back of Krum's skull as he and Hermione hit it off by the punch bowl. 

"Ron. Are you alright, mate?" Harry placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

"I'm fine."

Harry sighed, finding a seat next to Draco. He was sick of Ron's behavior tonight, really. Now that Harry had thought about it, it truly seemed as if Ron had been pining after Hermione for as long as he could actually remember. If Ron wasn't so stubborn, Hermione could've been his date to the ball, rather than Krum's. He didn't understand Ron's lack of logic here: if you like someone, go for it. 

Especially if they seem to like you back, right?

He looked to Draco in the seat next to him, who was looking all too nervous. This would make it the second time that he's encountered the Malfoy boy in his anxiety ridden state. It was unlike Draco to refuse eye contact and stare at the floor, even more unlike him to communicate with his head held low. Harry didn't get it. And something inside of him twisted at the idea of Malfoy crying, even if the redness around his eyes was beginning to fade now. 

"So, uh, Malfoy."

"Potter."

"Are we friends?"

Draco furrowed his brows, meeting Harry's eyes for the first time. 

"I guess. Why not?"

This made Harry smile. 

"I just wanted to make sure it wasn't weird of me to tell you that I'm glad you decided to come tonight."

This time, it was Draco who smiled. 

Before they knew it, they were hitting it off. It really made Harry wonder what had taken them so long to spark up a friendship; they were two sides of the same coin. Harry tried to avoid topics such as Draco's father, unless, of course, Draco brought it up, and Draco did the same regarding touchy subjects for Harry. It was as if they had known each other forever; the conversation fell right into place. There was not even a single beat of awkward silence, except in the beginning, where Harry would attempt to make a joke that might seem funny to a first year, leaving Draco unamused. But even then, Draco made sure to return Harry's words with at least a polite smile or laugh, and was not shy in allowing himself to really enjoy what was actually humorous. It had been the first time since the Hogwarts Express that Harry had seen Draco look so happy like that- since he'd seen Draco laugh. Really, really laugh. 

They talked about everything imaginable, Harry sharing stories and anecdotes about his adventures with Ron and Hermione, making Draco stare at him with wonder and awe in his grey eyes, that he noted, were no longer circled by red. By this point, Draco had laughed a fair amount, and Harry found that an unruly strand of Malfoy's hair had fallen loose from the rest. It made him look imperfect. Harry liked it. 

He told Draco the story of his first chocolate frog, and how it had blown out the window of the Hogwarts Express. He told Draco about Ron's imaginary spell that was supposedly meant to turn his pet rat yellow. He told Draco about his ridiculous Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, leaving out any stories or hints of abuse and only paying attention to the parts that amused him and made him laugh; the story about the zoo exhibit he made Dudley fall into had Draco laughing, too. 

And Draco talked just as much, no mistake. He told Harry about the Christmas where he had received his big, silver ring. He told Harry about the times that Dobby had said completely hilarious things while serving them dinner, and how his father never seemed to find them funny but it always made him giggle, and the examples of Dobby's jokes proved funny to Harry as well. He told Harry of the first time his mother had offered him a sip of her wine, and how excited he was. He told Harry of all the times Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep with food still smeared on their faces. 

Their conversation was sweet, almost as if reuniting with an old friend. It's like they knew all there was to know about each other. It made Draco regret being so rude to Harry and Ron the first day, and it almost made Harry regret not accepting Draco's handshake, especially if this is the Draco he had missed out on. 

But maybe, just maybe, this was a chance for them to redeem themselves. 

The current song that the band was playing ceased, a final guitar chord ringing out to the audience, everyone cheering in response. It seemed as if people were starting to head out; Harry had lost track of how long he and Draco had talked for. 

The lead singer of the band leaned forward, a hand on his microphone. 

"Is everyone having fun tonight?"

He was met with a rowdy applause from the audience, teachers cheering as much as the students were. The singer hushed their cheers. 

"Alright, alright, guys. We're gonna slow it down a bit."

A mellow chord was heard from the guitarist. 

Pairs began to form on the floor, the lighting beginning to dim. 

"This is for all the lovers out there," the singer began, stepping a healthy distance back from his microphone, "who keep each other warm."

A slow tune began playing, the remaining couples on the floor falling into a side to side rock as the singer's voice fell mellow as the instruments backing him.

Harry looked to Draco. 

Perhaps this was what Hermione meant when she told him to look harder. 

"Alright, I'm out of here," Ron exclaimed, rising from his seat, absolutely fuming. Harry presumed it was because of Hermione taking Krum's hand on the floor. 

This time, it was Harry's turn to stare at the floor. Not that he had anything against him anymore, he just didn't really look at Malfoy that way. Not to mention, he was a guy. And Harry wasn't quite sure he saw guys that way, either. 

But what did he have to lose?

He stood from his seat, turning to look down at Malfoy. He was staring off to the side, a red tint to his cheeks. Harry offered his hand; it took Malfoy by surprise. With reasonable caution, he accepted the outstretched hand into his own. 

"What about Parvati?"

Harry was confused for a moment; he had honestly forgotten about his original date. 

"She left a while ago. I guess I'm not the most interesting date."

They reached the floor, finding a place of their own amongst the flood of pairs that swayed side to side around them. Harry stood, dumbfounded, before Draco took the hand of Harry's that he held, and placed it on his waist. They fell into place from there, Draco's hand falling to Harry's shoulder. They fell into the sway of everyone else; it seemed as if time slowed down to the tempo of the song that blared. 

Hypocritical as it was, Harry would not meet Draco's gaze, who he felt was for sure looking at him. He couldn't help it though, really, because he knew if he looked up from their feet, he'd be a stumbling mess just like he was with Parvati, and something about Draco urged Harry not to slip up. Was he nervous? Yes. Did he know why? No. It was just Draco, and like they clarified before, they were friends. It should be no big deal. 

Draco was painfully aware of the awkward space between them.

"I don't bite, you know."

Draco urged their bodies closer. 

"Malfoy, if I can't see our feet, I'm going to trip us both."

Harry still frantically looked down to their steps, attempting to watch their movements. 

"Trust yourself. Look up at me; don't worry. Just focus. Watch how everyone else moves, and follow."

The green eyed boy tore his eyes from their feet reluctantly, staring at Draco. 

"See? You're doing fine. Just take your time, and don't think about it too much."

Things mostly went as planned, the unlikely pair falling into the familiar movements that everyone surrounding them had. Harry stumbled and tripped, yes, but each time he was met with patience and reassurance from Draco, who continued to coach and encourage him. 

"You're doing great, Harry."

Harry. 

Something twitched inside of him upon hearing Draco utter his first name. Foreign, indeed, but not in a bad way. Harry appreciated the natural sound of it leaving Draco's mouth even though he'd never done it before. He had said it with sweetness, treating it carefully and lovingly as he spoke it. 

As the two of them noticed what had happened, Draco could have choked. 

"Sorry, uh-," he panicked, "Potter."

Harry rushed to assure him. 

"No, really.. Draco. I liked it."

There was a rush inside Harry as he felt himself leaning in. It felt like the world itself was stuttering on its axis. 

"Okay." Draco whispered, leaning into the other, "Harry."

They were so close that Harry could feel Draco breathe Harry's name off of his lips and onto Harry's. 

The song ended, and they fell short of their moment. They both looked around, examining the scene. It seemed most everyone had left. Reluctant to meet each other's gaze, they stared at the ground. 

"Uh, it seems the party might be over. I can walk you back to your common room if you'd like."

Harry's gentlemanly offer struck Draco, who agreed without hesitation. 

Their entire walk back was filled with silence, unlike their night had been thus far. All that was to be heard were the faint echoes of their footsteps in the empty castle hallways. 

What had just happened? Harry had initiated it, if he remembered correctly, and Draco had met it with such eagerness; Harry couldn't decide what to do. He couldn't decide if he was grateful that the song had ended, or if he was upset, but he had almost kissed Draco Malfoy, and now he was staring at him as they walked. He was staring at Draco Malfoy, and he was looking at how the moonlight of the castle windows painted his pale skin, and he had never seen Draco like this before. 

Hell, he had never seen himself like this before. 

Harry was losing his mind. 

Draco led the way, mostly, and it felt like their walk was ceasing all too soon as they came to a halt in front of the entrance to the dungeons. 

Draco turned to Harry, not missing a beat, and looked him in the eyes. He smiled. 

"I'm glad I decided to come tonight, Harry."

Harry smiled back at him. And for the first moment since their almost kiss, he didn't stop to wonder what it meant. 

They stared at each other for a moment, almost as if they could not decide on who would close the curtains on their evening. 

Harry was looking at Malfoy again. Really looking. The way the moonlight fell through the castle windows onto Draco basked him in a soft, pale, light, making his grey eyes look shiny and glassy. He wore the moonlight impeccably, hugging his shoulders and painting his aura in something that was very, undoubtedly Draco. Harry found himself drawn to it. 

A groan was heard from one of the paintings on the walls. 

"If you two are going to kiss, could you get on with it, already?"

The two boys looked at each other, their laughs soft and low. 

Harry looked down at Draco's lips and up to his eyes, asking for permission. Draco met his request with a light smile. 

Harry's hands fell to Draco's waist with more confidence than they had all night, not wasting time to pull Draco closer to him. 

Again, Harry figured he didn't have much to lose. 

Their lips found each others. And much like the conversation they had earlier that evening, it felt natural; it was almost as if they had known each other this way for years. 

The kiss lasted no longer than a few seconds, Draco's cold hand finding its home against Harry's cheek. Both of them were overwhelmed by the intrusion of butterflies in their stomachs. They pulled back, eyelids fluttering open, grey eyes meeting green. 

"Dense Harry Potter," Draco said with a laugh, breaking from Harry's grip. 

Without another word, the blonde escaped the scene into the dungeons for the night. 

Harry had kissed Draco. 

Was Draco even his friend? Were they more than friends? How did Draco feel about it?

Is this what Hermione meant?

Harry's gaze followed Draco's every step until he could no longer see the green and silver dress robes chasing behind him elegantly. 

Harry didn't know what the hell was going on, or where this was going, or what this feeling was, but he could recognize it was familiar. It was familiar, fond, and natural. 

And just as he was someone with nothing to lose, Harry realized he was also someone with the world left to gain. 

So he smiled.


	8. Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something dear to Harry is at the bottom of that lake, and Harry hasn't seen Draco all day.

It had been a reasonable amount of time since the Yule Ball; the entire student body had yet to come down from their excitement entirely. Although still in fits about the ball, there was a new anticipation growing for the events that the Triwizard competitors were to face.

There had already been the task involving the dragons, which Harry found himself lucky to have made it out of. Nervous as he was about the next task, Neville had given him Gillyweed earlier that day to aid him in the competition, wishing him the best of luck. Now that the entire student body was making its way to the lake, Harry began to feel a shift in his confidence.

Neville was by his side for the journey, bumping shoulders with Harry occasionally down the bumpy slope.

It occurred to Harry that two of the people he wanted to be there were absent, Ron excluded, as he was too busy being a total prat.

"Neville," Harry furrowed his brows. "Have you seen Hermione today?"

"I haven't, actually. Have you?"

"I haven't, no."

Neville raised his eyebrows. It was strange really; Hermione had been encouraging Harry through the entire tournament, helping him with ideas and strategies, cheering him on indefinitely. For her to just disappear was unlike her.

And Draco.

Harry had prior noticed Draco's absense; even if he wasn't wishing Harry good luck before the tournament, he would've at least been present to make eyes at Harry from across the Great Hall at breakfast, especially after the events at the Ball. He was not around to do either.

"Have you seen Draco, either?"

Neville looked at Harry, confusion etched on his face at Harry's question. It took Harry aback at first; he failed to realize hardly anyone was aware of what had taken place after the Yule Ball. Hermione and Ron were really the only ones he'd told. 

Where could he be?

"No, I haven't. Thought you two weren't friends?" Neville passed Harry a questioning glance.

"It's complicated, I suppose."

Neville accepted the vague explanation with a nod.

It was not long before the two of them reached the lake, the student body crowded around where the competitors prepared for the task. Three of them stood, receiving encouragement from friends and teachers. Just great, had Harry kept them waiting?

He closed the distance between himself and the others in a jog, feeling mildly bad having made them wait.

"Harry!" Cedric started, taking a step toward his fellow competitor; Harry smiled to him. "Was beginning to think you'd wimped out on us!" Harry's smile turned into a laugh.

Harry found himself zoning in and out whenever the task was explained. Bottom of the lake.. Merpeople.. All things he had deciphered from the egg already. 

This was when his stomach sunk.

Something dear was to be taken from him, something dear of his would have to be fetched from the bottom of the lake. Something, or someone.

Was this where Hermione and Draco had been?

Before he could debate on it longer, he had consumed the Gillyweed, feeling a strange sensation tingle through his body. The task had begun.

Harry dived headfirst into the lake, the temperature cold but not unbearable. The strange sensation he had felt resolved itself when he was fully submerged, a foreign pair of gills making an appearance on his neck; his hands and feet became webbed. The Gillyweed had done its job; he'd have to thank Neville a second time later.

Fleur, Cedric, and Krum had dispersed. Harry looked around, seeing them all heading in their own, different directions. He'd better get going.

He'd decided on following Cedric's path, over a bit in one direction and straight down. It made the most sense after all. They were headed toward the very middle of the lake. 

Harry reached the destination third, Krum had beat them all, Cedric coming next. The sight before him made Harry uneasy.

The merpeople circled the three of them eerily, keeping a close eye on their movements around the hostages, who were weighed down to the bottom of the lake, looking to be unconscious. In a line, Hermione, Cho and Draco bobbed, an unidentified blonde girl floating near them; Harry figured she was Fleur's to save.

Krum and Cedric, upon seeing the lineup, rushed to retrieve who was meant for them. Cedric went for Cho, which was quite obvious, Krum making a move for Hermione.

Somehow, Harry had failed to register that Draco Malfoy had been left at the bottom of the lake specifically for Harry Potter to rescue. He waited a moment before swimming to him, anxiety beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach. He worried of messing it up somehow; he worried of upsetting Draco.

Swimming forward, Harry just settled on the idea that Draco Malfoy better be grateful that Harry would be rescuing him.

He wrapped his arms firmly around Draco's slim torso, feeling Draco's ribs as he tightened his hold. Pulling Draco loose from the seaweed that bound him to the lake's muddy floor, Harry looked around. As murky as the water was, his vision was still decent; he wasn't sure whether to thank the Gillyweed or his glasses for this fortune. With a squint, Harry double checked the area. Fleur was nowhere in sight. The young, blonde girl destined for Fleur's help was still bound to the bottom of the lake. He was sure Draco would accuse him of playing the hero again, but despite that, Harry found himself trying to free her.

The merpeople rushed to surround him, hissing at him with fury, their fins stirring up a storm of bubbles that made it even more difficult to see. Webbed fingers clawed at Harry's ankles, threatening to weigh him down to the bottom of the lake like Draco once had been. He kicked free of their hold, stray hands still clawing at him from all directions. Pulling the blonde girl free, he took her in one arm, Draco in the other, and began to swim as fast as he could toward the surface. The merpeople did not make this easy.

They tugged at Harry's feet as he kicked, and when that failed, they resorted to tugging at Draco and the girl. Harry tightened his hold on them both. He wouldn't allow himself to believe he was beginning to sink. He went for a deep inhale, feeling water instead of air. Was the Gillyweed beginning to wear off also? Wonderful, he thought.

In a last attempt to make it to the surface and escape the merpeople's torment, Harry managed to whip out his wand, firing wordless hexes in their direction. They backed off with reluctance; some swam off to find other things to meddle with altogether. And in a jumble of unconscious limbs and tight, burning lungs, Harry broke through the surface of the lake, blonde heads bobbing up with him on either side. 

The moment the three of them hit the surface, a chorus of gasps emitted from them all, desperate to retrieve the oxygen they had once taken for granted. Both Draco and the still unidentified girl were once again conscious. Once he had caught his breath, Harry dragged the two to safety. The young girl was pulled up first, followed by Draco, then Harry himself, back onto the wooden platform where students cheered and yelled for Harry's victory. There was a swarm of people around him, offering him towels, blankets, and cups of water; some even asked to take photographs or begin interviews with him. Accepting the towel, he politely declined the publicity, attempting to find the time to catch his breath and slow his accelerated heart. He had saved the two of them; as an award for his morals, he received extra points and was bumped up a place in the ranks.

As soon as it felt he had escaped the ruckus, a hand was on Harry's shoulder, spinning him around.

"You saved my sister!" Fleur pulled him into a hug. Over his shoulder, he caught a glance of the young, blonde girl he'd saved, who he now knew was Fleur's sibling. She stared up at Harry in awe. "You saved her even though she wasn't yours to save!"

Fleur broke the wet hug to give Harry a giant, appreciative peck on the cheek. 

"Thank you."

Harry smiled to her.

Breaking free of the chaos at last, Harry walked to the edge of the wooden platform where Draco sat, wrapped in a pale blue towel, alone. He slouched over, his bare feet hanging over the edge of the platform; he was staring at the water.

"Hey."

Draco turned toward the sound of the greeting, giving Harry a light smile.

"Hey."

Harry offered a hand.

"We can head out of here, if you'd like." Draco accepted Harry's hand, rising from his seat. As he stood, Harry stared at him in awe much as Fleur's sister had stared at him. Draco was wrapped in a delicate, pale blue towel; he was shivering. The water must've taken more of a toll on Draco than it had on Harry. The cloudy weather highlighted Draco's grey eyes, the lake providing him with a generous backdrop. You'd think Harry was staring at a piece of art based on how well the color scheme matched, really. Freshwater droplets rolled down Draco's pale, smooth face, residing heavily in his hair which was weighed down and wet. Pieces stuck to his face while others were carried by the light breeze. Something about this version of Draco looked so delicately imperfect, and Harry could not get enough of it. He remembered to save the image in his head for later.

He'd been confused about all of this since the Ball, actually. But after a restless night of tossing, turning, and an over active thought process, Harry had decided he was tired of trying to figure it all out. He could appreciate Draco's looks all he wanted to, no one had to know; no one would care.

"I'd like that very much."

The students present seemed to have the same idea, most of them already filing out of the area in crowds, trudging up the steep hills in the direction of the castle.

Harry and Draco slipped in and found their place in this crowd toward the end of it, putting less effort into trudging up the hills to keep up with the lot. 

"Thank you, Harry."

The gratitude took Harry by surprise. He didn't expect it, to say the least. Draco wasn't the type to verbally show his appreciation.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Harry sneered. Draco fondly shoved Harry's shoulder, not sending him far. He stumbled back to Draco's side, walking with the blonde in comfortable silence at a comfortable pace, bumping shoulders as friends would.

They walked a bit more, falling behind the group little by little. Draco put a gentle hand on Harry's arm, tugging him close. 

Draco, in a swift, almost secretive motion, pecked Harry on his cheek.

Harry figured that the rest of their walk back, it might be even be alright to hold Draco's hand.


	9. Think Happy Thoughts

Dumbledore's Army was initially not meant to be any sort of rebellion. But with the class growing in size every week, Harry realized that the movement was really beginning to gain momentum.

Harry had seen Voldemort that night in the maze. The third task of the Triwizard Tournament left Harry victorious, yes, but a hollow shell of who he once was; he'd seen the monster who'd killed his parents, and he'd seen another die at his expense. He refused to let Cedric's death to be for nothing, and if Umbridge wouldn't teach students self defense, Harry decided he certainly would.

They began with practicing simple spells, "Stupefy" being a class favorite. A simple stun couldn't be their only achievement though, and it was decided that they would continue to move forward to new things whenever Ginny's blow left Ron with a bruised backside. 

After weeks of practice, the new class favorite, taught to Harry by Remus, was the patronus charm.

Blue trails of magic flared and fizzed from the tips of the students' wands, drooping to the ground in failure. _Expecto Patronum_  thundered off the walls over and over like a mantra. 

As the leader of the group, everyone else's success was also Harry's. Each well cast patronus made his heart swell in pride, elegant, blue flares of magic dancing around the room.

"Great job! Keep it up!" He encouraged, beaming and basking in the light of the charms that were beginning to pick up around him. "You won't get it on the first try, but it's alright, keep practicing!"

Draco Malfoy, however, was absent from these meetings.

Draco's father was already not pleased with Harry Potter; it was no question. Had Dumbledore's Army been discovered by Umbridge, the students surely would face consequences, and Draco made the wise decision of avoiding things that were sure to get him into even more trouble with his father. Lucius seemed to hold the grudge well, jaw often clenched and face full of malice at even the breath of Potter's name.

But that didn't mean that Draco couldn't still receive lessons in private, right? 

Draco had waited outside the entrance to the Great Hall one day, anticipating Harry's passage. He was on his way to class after breakfast when Draco's hand snagged him, pulling him aside.

Harry's eyebrows drew together upon being tugged from his friends, but awaited Malfoy's message in anticipation.

"Harry."

Harry gave a light nose exhale.

"Yes, that's my name."

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

"Stop. This is a serious matter. I've a favor to ask of you."

Harry's face fell serious, waiting for the request.

"About your Dumbledore's Army meetings," Draco gulped, almost feeling his father breathing down his neck in this very moment. "I'd like to join you." 

He felt his stomach twist even thinking of joining the movement; had he really deemed himself sly enough to get away with this? The tug of his father's judgement weighed heavily on his shoulders. Draco was aware that the current reign of Umbridge at Hogwarts was not ideal, of course. Everyone could agree on that much. But Draco was fifteen, living every moment of his life standing in his father's footsteps. He had noticed his father's lead to be snug and uncomfortable on him lately, though, and feared every step he managed to inch away from it. Scared, yes. He was scared. He hated to admit that much, but there was no doubt about it.

Draco was sick of having to choose between what was right and what was easy.

Nonetheless, Harry's face lit up, and Draco could nearly, just nearly, feel the knots of doubt in his stomach dissolve. Something about Harry's bright green eyes felt promising, and Draco hoped to all hell that they were.

"Really?"

A side of Draco's lip curled up into a small smile.

"Well, brilliant! We meet in the Room of Requirement once a week, make sure to-"

"Wait, Harry."

"What is it?"

"I'm sure you're aware of my delicate reputation, as well as my father's short temper."

"I would say I've witnessed it, yes."

Draco winced, the memory still making him feel torn. He didn't like feeling stuck between what he wanted and what his father wanted. It really hit him, then.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean that. Wasn't thinking, sorry." Harry shuffled awkwardly between his feet. "So, what were you saying?"

"I was going to suggest a bargain, if you're up for it."

Draco's voice trembled as his anxiety rose in his throat, choking him. Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"What exactly is the bargain?"

Draco's stomach resumed to tying itself in knots of panic. His throat felt tight. If this thing with Harry, whatever it was, made its way back to his father, he'd be in for it. And he was already making a move to step farther away from his father's wishes? Draco began to consider himself mad.

"It's.." Draco stopped his suggestion as soon as it began. He couldn't do it. He was a damn coward, and he couldn't do it. He hated himself for it.

"It's.. Never mind. It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

Draco hung his head, making a move to go.

Harry let him.

\---

It had been three days. Draco had not yet come to Harry to complete his request.

He was acting quite weird, really, if you asked Harry.

He refused to return Harry's usual gazes in class or at meals, and any time Harry attempted to pick up a feeble conversation, Draco would duck away without a word. Draco couldn't bring himself to explain to Harry, or even himself for that matter, why he was trying so hard to avoid it all. 

He often found himself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling above him, pondering all of the paradoxical thoughts that blurred his mind.  

Draco had grown to believe each and every word his father uttered. From his birth, he had been told of the prestigious past holders of the Malfoy name. He had been told they were the best of the best in the wizarding world, that their money and their blood and possibly even their appearances made them superior to everyone else. The Malfoy name had a lot to live up to, and Lucius had made that crystal clear from the time Draco could walk. Draco was destined for greatness, and the only thing he had to thank for it was his last name. (Which he was really beginning to loathe, actually.)

Draco had always received encouragement from his father to be himself, but the moment he stepped out of his father's silhouette of perfection, he was sucked right back in, a fierce scolding and maybe even an angry hit or two. "Be yourself," he was told, "But not like that."

Draco failed to realize before this point that this was not normal. He also still failed to realize that it was not okay.

Maybe his father was right, though. Maybe he ought to just stick to what he knew, stick to upholding the family name. He would just step back in line, right behind his father, slick his hair back to perfection so not one strand fell out of place, and expect the same of his own son. He was a Malfoy, after all. To his understanding, this is what Malfoys did.

Maybe Draco didn't want to be a Malfoy anymore, he'd decided. 

But without his last name, without his family, what would he be? It was all he'd ever known.

If not a Malfoy, what would he be?

\---

Harry had grown sick of the cold shoulder. It had now been five days, and he had received not so much as even a glance from Draco, which, when we're talking about Draco, is unusual. Harry'd had enough.

He made certain that he is the first of his friends to finish breakfast this morning, each bite ingested with a sense of urgency. He didn't even bother to make conversation with them. He wad determined to finish before Malfoy could, and snag him to the side much as he'd done to Harry when he'd first suggested the bargain. So he did just that.

Harry waited in anticipation by the entrance to the Great Hall, finally ready to get to the bottom of this. When Draco passed through the large doors, Pansy and Blaise on either side, Harry was swift to grab hold of Draco's arm, pulling him to the side. The roughness took Draco by surprise, his face twisting in obvious discomfort.

"Draco."

Draco's eyes darted everywhere he could manage, everywhere except for Harry. He gave no acknowledgement of Harry's voice.

"Draco," Harry repeated, firmly this time. Draco's gaze finally manged to settle somewhere: the ground.

"Draco, what's going on?"

Draco felt his stomach churn, not sure if it was from anger, fear, or whatever else he was feeling for Harry. 

"I don't know what it is with you, but you haven't been talking to me," Harry paused cautiously. "I miss you."

This lured Draco's gaze to Harry's.

"I've already told you, Harry- it's mad. What I planned to suggest just wouldn't be efficient for either of us, particularly me, and-"

"Well, why don't you let me try to help you figure it all out? If you'd just tell me, maybe I could help. We could do it together."

Harry received no response.

"Draco, above anything else, we're friends, are we not?"

Friends. Draco Malfoy had never considered Harry a friend. It had always been something different. The word felt foreign and misplaced when defining their relationship.

"Potter," He spat. He hadn't used only Harry's last name in what seemed like forever. "I want to be in Dumbledore's Army. I want to join you. But if you were discovered, if Umbridge found the rumor of these meetings to be true, then there would be consequences for everyone involved. I can't do that, with my father and all."

Draco sighed angrily, his slender digits running through his hair, imperfection in the strands of hair that fell from their place. His gaze fell to the floor again.

"Umbridge has asked me to join the Inquisitorial Squad."

There was a beat of silence before Harry dared to speak. 

"So, what exactly was the bargain in this situation?"

"Harry," Draco's voice softened, "It's mad."

"Draco, I'm not sure about you, but I'd say both of us are at least a little mad."

Draco dared to look up from the ground, and he saw Harry smiling. Damn it. He sighed.

"I was going to suggest that I give Umbridge false information about your meetings in exchange for private lessons from you."

"That's brilliant!"

"But, if we were caught,-"

"We won't be."

The fire in Harry's emerald eyes made him hard to ignore. If Dumbledore's Army were to actually be caught, there would be no proof of Draco's involvement. If he'd joined Umbridge's band of minions, she'd trust him, which would help his case if he needed to tell a quick lie. 

The plan still made a sour feeling taint Draco's insides, but Harry's tone sounded confident and sure. 

Draco caved. He nodded.

"Alright, then."

\---

The first lesson was a rough one.

Harry had suggested the idea that they frequently switch locations to avoid anyone making note of their meet ups, which Draco appreciated. Today's lesson found itself in close proximity of Hagrid's shack, nearly tucked away from view and bordering the trees of the forest.

Harry had decided to stick to the regiment he had been progressing with in the DA meetings. He was sure Draco could cast a decent Stupefy; he'd been a victim of it himself once or twice. So he moved forward. The next thing he had taught his class was how to cast a patronus.

"Alright, Draco, I'm sure you're familiar with a patronus." 

Draco nodded.

"So, we can start with that. I started working with teaching DA to cast them. It's been about a week; we still have some people perfecting it."

Draco drew his wand.

"Um, so, what you have to do is just," Harry stepped to Draco, moving to stand by his side. "You have to think of the happiest memory you have. What's the happiest you've ever felt? Think about it."

Draco thought. Probably when he had received his first broom for Christmas that year. It was a sleek new model; he was seven years old. It was small, fit for a child, but no doubt very expensive. He had gotten a head start on flying. It made him considerably happy.

"Have you got it?"

Draco nodded again.

"All you have to do is think about it, think about how you felt when it happened."

Harry drew his wand to demonstrate. Closing his eyes, he seemed to concentrate hard on his memory.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Blue light sparked and shot from the tip of Harry's wand in urgency, but also elegance. The stream of light swirled and morphed into a stag, soaring through the air and finding its place on the ground. It disappeared when Harry dropped his wand; it seemed to have put Draco in a trance. He'd thought it was beautiful.

"Would you like to give it a go?"

Draco raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

 

Much like many of his peers, the tip of Draco's wand sizzled with the promised potential of a patronus, but drooped and faded away. Draco looked discouraged.

"No, no, it's alright. It's only your first try! No one gets it the first time."

Draco had attempted it several times within the past hour, too many to count, with no avail. The sun was setting; the temperature dropped.

"Harry, no offence, but this doesn't seem to be working out very well." Harry smiled at him, laughing a bit.

"Like I said, I've been working with them for about a week, and they still haven't all gotten it. It takes practice, Draco. Don't be hard on yourself."

Don't be hard on yourself. Draco could almost laugh. Everything Harry seemed to say or do contradicted Draco's father. Don't be hard on yourself.

"Well, regardless, it's getting quite late. I'm not the only one freezing my ass off, am I? Dinner should be soon, as well, and if we're late you know there will be plenty who are nosy about it."

Harry nodded, beginning his trudge up the hill toward the castle. Draco followed, his face and ears flush red from the cold. Harry noted the loose red and gold scarf hung around his own neck, and figured maybe Draco would get more use of it than he would.

"Here."

Harry pulled the scarf from his neck, slinging it over Draco's shoulders. He responded immediately, gratefully wrapping the scarf around himself and pulling it over his face to cover his cold nose.

Harry made a note that Draco looked awfully odd in Gryffindor colors, but also that he enjoyed the sight of Draco wearing his clothes.

Draco smiled to Harry with appreciation. 

He almost told Harry how the scarf smelled of him. Draco liked it.

\---

The second lesson was exactly a week later, except Draco remembered to bring his own scarf this time. They had decided they could hide away near the quidditch pitch today; none of the teams had scheduled practice.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Draco, once again, was unsuccessful. Harry let him struggle for nearly half an hour, no progress made.

"Draco, just curious, what exactly are you remembering when you try to cast it?"

Draco sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He had done it a lot this lesson; Harry noted it was something Draco did when he was upset.

"One year, for Christmas, my parents bought me my first broom."

Harry's mind clicked.

"That's why it's not working for you! The memory isn't nearly happy enough. Don't worry though, I had the same problem. I tried to think of the first time I ever used a broom. It wasn't a good enough memory to work for me, though. I had to think of something else."

Draco's stomach sunk. His mind blanked. What else was there for him to think of? How happy did it really have to be? 

He waited a moment before asking anything.

"What do you think of, Harry?"

Harry looked down, bashfully. It was unlike him.

"Well, it's a bit unique actually. When I was younger, I found the Mirror of Erised, and when I looked in it, I saw my parents. They were by my side.. It was the happiest I've ever felt," Harry gave a small laugh to himself. "So when I cast a patronus, I think of being with them. I think of them being alive, being by my side. I realize it's not quite a memory, but the idea makes me happier than I've ever been."

He smiled thoughtfully, and Draco returned it.

"My patronus, the stag, it's the same as my father's. It makes me feel close to him to know that mine is the same as his is. Well, was."

Draco opens his mouth to reply, but fails to say anything. He's not sure what he would've said, anyway.

"Speaking of fathers," Harry started. Draco's stomach clenched; he knew where this was going. He didn't like it. "You don't have to tell me or anything, but how are things? You know, with your dad?"

"They're.. Well, he's not happy."

Harry looked to Draco with pity in his eyes, and Draco couldn't stand it. He wasn't some baby- he didn't need Harry's pity. Things could be better, yes, but he didn't want help. He was fine.

"As you could probably assume, he despises you. Any time you're mentioned by anyone, for any reason, he looks like he's about to explode. He hasn't acted the same with me ever since. He's on edge a lot. It's frightening, really."

Harry frowned.

"Does he.. Does he ever hurt you?"

Draco didn't say anything for what seemed like an eternity. The way Harry asked the question made it seem like it wasn't normal, wasn't good for Draco to be hit that way by his father. It made Draco ponder it.

"Well, yes. But only when he's really upset. He's usually been drinking. He only ever hits when I've upset him. It's alright." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm alright."

Harry was hugging him.

It was warm, familiar, and comfortable. But it was for all the wrong reasons. Draco wished the hug would end.

When Harry drew back, the pity was in his eyes again. Pity just for Draco.

"Draco, that isn't alright. You're not alright. You don't deserve that."

Draco stared at him.

"It's getting late. I'm heading back for dinner."

Harry followed him when he began to make his way back to the castle. Draco walked hastily, but Harry was on his heels.

Draco could've sworn he felt Harry try to grab for his hand.

Draco didn't let him hold it this time.

\---

The third time around, there was an awkward tension. It filled the air around them, almost thick enough to touch. They had met this time by the willow. Draco regretted opening up to Harry, even if it was just a little, because Harry had this pitiful look in his eyes that only came when he looked at Draco, and Draco absolutely could not stand it. He didn't need anyone's pity. He had meant it when he told Harry that he was fine, and he was sticking to it.

He had thought about a new memory, however.

It was another thing that made him lie awake at night, made him stare at the ceiling of his dorm for hours at a time during the night.

First, he had thought that maybe Molly hugging him could be his memory. It was warm, firm, and loving, unlike what he was so used to. Molly hugged him not as if it was a duty, but as if she cared for him. Although he was stiff when it happened, he continued to yearn for the feeling of Mrs. Weasley's loving embrace, especially when he sought comfort. He wouldn't dare to admit this to anyone.

Second, he thought that maybe it could've been when Harry had kissed him. It had been a while since that night, since the Yule Ball, but Draco could recall it like it was yesterday. The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds. It was unmoving, but firm and sure. Draco had enjoyed the feeling of his chest pressed up against Harry's, the way Harry's hand rested on his waist as if he was the most delicate thing Harry had ever held, the way he wrapped his arms around Harry in return. It had all been so much. 

Third, he thought of how Harry had saved him. Not necessarily the way Harry had grabbed him and ran that day. Sure, he had heard the words of Draco's father and had acted on instinct; he had grabbed Draco and ran. He had saved him that day. But he had saved him in every other way. He made Draco feel like the weight of the world, the weight of his father, the weight of his name were all a little lighter. 

That was it.

Draco's happiest memory was not a specific instance or event. His happiest memory was all the little things Harry had done for him along the way. The day in Knocturn Alley. Asking if he was okay at the burrow. Offering him a spot on the train. The ball. The kiss. The second task of the Triwizard tournament. The private lessons. All of it. It made Draco feel like Harry cared, at least, hope Harry cared. It made him feel safe. It made him feel warm.

He had thought of this as he raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

 

It was a load of progress in just this one go. The memory surely helped.

A magical explosion of light fired from his wand, promising and strong. It strayed away, and started to take shape before dissipating. He had nearly done it.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed. "You almost got it!!"

Draco felt excitement rise in his chest. Determination took hold of him. He was going to do it.

"Expecto," Draco's voice was stern and loud, "Patronum!"

 

His wand blasted a spell of blue light that swirled elegantly into the air. It circled itself, gaining momentum, beginning to take shape. It rounded, its figure becoming more clear.

It was a stag.

Draco's stomach jumped as he noticed it had taken shape, he had done it!

"Harry!!" Draco didn't take his eyes off of his stag, who lowered to the ground. "Harry, I did it!"

Harry stared at Draco, his heart swelling with pride as it did with everyone else he'd taught. Maybe his heart swelled with a little more than just pride this time, seeing the blue light reflect on Draco's face, on his eyes, his hair. He had never seen Draco look happier than he did then. And his patronus, it was a stag. That might've added to the feeling in Harry's chest.

Harry ran to Draco's side, drawing his wand. Had Draco noticed?

"Expecto Patronum!"

 

Harry's patronus, much more elegant and practiced than Draco's, swirled up in the sky as Draco's had. It took shape, finding its place on the ground next to Draco's. 

Harry didn't look at the two stags, though. He looked at Draco. 

When Draco noticed Harry's patronus alongside his, his face changed. It wasn't a frown, it was different. It was a realization.

He lowered his wand, patronus disappearing with grace.

Draco was still panting in excitement, turning to look at Harry, to Harry's patronus, and back at Harry. He's looking at Harry as if he expected something.

Harry looked between his patronus and Draco, seeing the blue light reflect in Draco's cold, grey eyes. It made him look alive. Harry lowered his wand slowly, moving closer to Draco as he did. Their patronuses had been the same, they had matched. Harry was now sure that it was not pride that he felt in his chest, in his heart. It was much more than that.

He lowered his wand, blue light beginning to disappear and evaporate into the night as he did. The last of the light left Draco's eyes right before Harry's lips were on his.

It was so much more than their first kiss had been.

Harry's wand slipped from his grasp, falling carelessly into the grass. His hands were quick to capture Draco's waist, pulling their bodies together in a warm embrace. They fit together like puzzle pieces, like their bodies were meant to be pressed together. Harry could feel Draco's slim frame against his chest, in his arms, and he worried that holding him too tight would break him, yet all he wanted was to squeeze Draco, squeeze them together until you couldn't tell where Draco ended and where Harry began. Draco's hands found residence on Harry's cheeks, his cold fingertips from the night matching the temperature of Harry's face. He knew his own cheeks and ears had to be red, too, but now he wasn't sure if it was from the unforgiving bite of the cold or from the way Harry made him feel. Their lips, much like their bodies, felt like they were made for one another, capturing each other's movements, perfectly in sync. The kiss was fierce and open mouthed, much longer than their last. Fierce as it was, it was still tender, Harry kissing Draco with everything he didn't know how to express. No matter how cold the night was, no matter how the cold made Draco shiver, Harry held him, and he was warm. It was all so much, too much.

They parted, not moving their hands from where they were. They arose in a fit of giggles, resting their foreheads together.

They leaned in once or twice more, sharing small pecks and giggles against each other's lips.

Harry smiled against Draco's lips.

"You did it, Draco."


	10. Come to Me in the Night

Their weekly lessons rapidly passed, dissolving into not only a "lesson" but more of just a meeting. They'd doubled in frequency, also, meeting twice weekly in the astronomy tower to talk and, well, whatever else. 

Okay, so, they weren't really busy doing more than talking, but the occasional kiss or intertwine of fingers was definitely involved, leaving both of them with flaming cheeks and cavity inducing smiles. They met every Tuesday and Thursday, precisely 11:30pm, sitting in mostly comfortable silence to exchange affections and bask in the light of the moon and stars, which painted Draco quite well, Harry had noted.

The lessons turned to simple meetings in an instant as well as in a drawn out fashion. It had all started when their lessons began to become a bit more difficult with all the snowy weather blanketing their usual spots, and Harry had slyly slid past Draco's seat at the Slytherin table to deliver him a note. He'd suggested they move to the astronomy tower for their lessons, signing his name with two "x"s, the mark of affection that absolutely did not make Draco Malfoy blush, no way.

Their first meeting was on a Thursday, they both remembered well, returning from winter holiday to be greeted with a still snow covered Hogwarts. The lesson, of course, had begun as a lesson, Harry possibly being a bit too hands on with showing Draco things he most likely already knew. Twenty minutes had passed before they figured they weren't fooling anyone, especially themselves, stopping the nonsense to lean over the tower, overlook the castle grounds, and admire the stars above.

Harry found himself staring a lot more at Draco than at anything else. Draco pretended not to notice.

Harry couldn't help but to stare at Draco, though. And as far as he knew, Draco didn't mind.

Harry was sick of all this staring though, all this snogging, the hugging, the hand holding, all of it. He couldn't take it anymore. Putting any sort of label on it in his head felt strange. It's not that he denied his feelings for Malfoy, no, it's simply that he preferred not to acknowledge them. He was still fifteen, of course, respectively awkward and nervous about the whole romance scene. Especially with a boy. With Draco. Again, as far as he knew, Draco didn't mind.

Harry swore he was hiding it so well, too. Draco, on the other hand, would just leave his dorm without a word, regardless of if his friends asked questions or not, whereas Harry found himself fumbling over excuses or bad lies any time a friend of his found him sneaking out. He eventually took to using the invisibility cloak, which helped a great deal, but he still received a great deal of questions as to why his bunk was empty in the later hours of the night. He never had a reasonable alibi. Hermione had begun to fit the pieces together, while the rest of his friends deemed the mystery to be a lost cause. Harry figured he needn't worry himself with what others thought they knew or didn't know, especially when Harry wasn't sure himself.

One thing he was sure of though, was that he couldn't help from staring. And when he started, he couldn't stop.

Draco could feel Harry's longing gaze all but piercing him. The idea made him smirk.

"Harry," Draco peeked at Harry from the corner of his eye, his smirk growing, confidence fluttering. "Why is it that you insist on staring a burning hole into the side of my head? I find myself wondering."

Harry's face faltered, almost wincing a bit. He could've face palmed right then.

"You're just.. Pretty."

Despite the blush rising to his cheeks at the shy compliment, Draco found in within himself to scoff.

"Pretty? I'm not a girl, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to speak a few times before he managed to find the right words to say. When he did though, his face screamed of embarrassment, and he rushed to correct his mistake.

"Uh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... You look.. Rather nice."

Draco's smirk resolved into a smile. He lightly brushed his shoulder with Harry's.

"I'm merely joking, Harry. You look rather nice as well. The moonlight makes your eyes look different."

Harry's blush grew in intensity. He wondered how Draco could've possibly noticed how he looked if he hadn't even been looking. 

Harry mentally kicked himself. He felt as if he was making it awkward where it shouldn't be, where it usually wasn't. The silence felt comfortable at times, but others it just felt dull and suffocating, and every minute that passed made his stomach feel intruded by butterflies and as if an elephant had landed right in the middle of his chest. Everything with Malfoy felt so blurry, and he was sick of not being able to see.

Here goes, then.

"Malfoy, I don't know what I'm doing."

Last names were only ever exchanged these days with seriousness or mock. Harry's tone made Draco raise an eyebrow expectantly.

"What are you getting at, Potter?"

Harry had since adopted the gesture of running his fingers through his hair when he was upset. He raked his hands through his thick, jet black locks, ruffling them even more than they already were. He gave a frustrated sigh.

"Us. You. I don't know."

He shifted his weight between his feet, shuffling awkwardly before finally resting against the ledge of the tower. He wasn't usually one to avoid gazes when he felt awkward, that was Draco's role, but this time, Harry found his eyes clinging to anything and everything except for Draco's face, beautiful as it may glow under the moonlight.

Draco said nothing, only looked at Harry, eyes soft and laden with anticipation.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair again, looking distressed.

"I just don't know, Malfoy, okay? I've kissed you and I liked it, I like holding your hand, I can't stop staring at you, and I don't know what I'm doing. It feels weird, I feel like I'm choking, but in a good way. Does that make sense? That doesn't make sense. Um, yeah, whatever, I suppose. Sorry. I just, I don't know what I'm going for here. Sorry."

Draco mirrored Harry's position, leaning on one arm against the ledge of the tower. His silence was making Harry anxious. Draco's eyes were too full of moonlight for Harry to read.

"What is it that you want, Potter?"

Harry thought he might now understand what exactly he was going for.

"What are we, Malfoy?"

The question seemed to take Draco by surprise, his expression only twitching a moment before returning to cool, calm and collected. He looked at Harry. 

"Whatever you'd like to be."

Harry stared back at him for a moment, dumbfounded by the vague answer. He was being left to progress this, the ball was in his court, and he wasn't sure what to do.

He decided on subtly sliding his hand to Draco's, the tips of Harry's fingers teasing his. Draco took to interlocking their fingers.

"I see, then."

\---

The meetings went on week after week, month after month. They stared more at each other these days since defining their relationship that night. Tuesdays and Thursdays, though, they held each other's gazes longer, an unspoken reminder between them.

Hermione had noticed. And quite miraculously, so had Ron.

"Harry. Earth to Harry."

Ron waved an experimental hand in front of Harry's eyes to break his attention with whatever the hell he was staring at.

Harry broke his staring contest with the back of Malfoy's head a few seats ahead. It was a miracle Ron had snapped him out of it before the professor had, they were in class, after all.

"What? Did you say something?"

Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

"What've you got going on with Malfoy? You're staring at him like you would whenever you swore he was up to something. Do you think he's plotting something, or are you just stuck on the thought of snogging him?"

Harry had since reunited his eyes with the back of Malfoy's head, only returning to Ron at the last part of his remark.

"You've got no business bothering me about who I snog, Ron."

"I'm beginning to think you want to do a bit more than just snog him, mate."

Harry took no time to respond to this giving Ron a merciless punch in the arm. Hermione, sat a seat ahead of the boys next to Parvati, turned around in annoyance.

"Harry, excuse Ron, he's just now chosen to acknowledge your relations with," her voice lowered to a whisper before continuing, almost as if to keep Malfoy from hearing, "with Draco. And Ron, you can clearly see Harry's having a bit of an identity crisis over the entire thing. Leave him alone, won't you? It's not your place to tease him for who he does or doesn't choose to shag."

Ron's face broke into a smile, lips tight as if to hold back giggles. Hermione turned back to her work.

"B-But, we're not--!" 

Ron's giggles let loose.

Harry felt his face heat up. His glare flashed between Ron and the back of Hermione's head.

"We are not shagging!"

His voice was an angry whisper audible enough to make Malfoy, a few seats ahead, turn around.

Harry hid his face in his hands and groaned. Whatever.

\---

Spring had sprung at Hogwarts, and Draco and Harry had not returned to their lessons, even if the snow had dissipated. The meetings had officially replaced them.

On a particular Tuesday night, they met, Draco arriving first per usual. Harry was always about five minutes late, especially as their meetings had become a lot more relaxed.

They returned to their normal positions, leaning against the ledge of the tower and overlooking the castle grounds. You could see the lake from there, and even a bit of the quidditch pitch. The night sky was usually a spectacular work of art, the lack of light pollution making the stars bright and visible, the moonlight reflected on the lake and in Malfoy's hair. Tonight though, was an exception, as the sky was darkened by clouds. No moon or star light was allowed to pass, the clouds forming a dark barrier, dancing with occasional claps of lightning, followed by thunder. The wind picked up and swirled, the temperature mild, the air smelling of rain.

This was fair though, as it was spring, and the blooming flowers had to get their fix from something, right? The boys found no use in leaning over the edge of the ledge to marvel over the scene though, sinking down to sit together, shoulders touching.

The wind picked up, managing to ruffle Draco's hair just the way Harry liked it, making him look disheveled and out of place. The flashes of lightning grew in frequency, as did the volume of the thunder that followed.

Something about the atmosphere softened Harry. It was unlike him to open up, to admit his weaknesses. He sighed.

"I'm scared, Draco."

Draco, looking sad and all knowing, scoffed lightly.

"What, of a bloody thunderstorm, Potter?"

Harry could only look at him, not wanting to repeat the confession.

Draco shuffled closer, leaning into Harry's warmth.

"Me too, Harry."

"I saw him that night."

Draco looked at Harry, a look of wonder etched into his expression.

"Voldemort. I saw him. He's back."

Draco looked as if he was not sure how to respond.

"Hardly anyone believes me. I'm scared. He's come back for a reason. He wants something. Something he didn't get the first time. It all makes sense."

Harry's voice shook as he rambled, he really wasn't used to opening up this way before. He was a Gryffindor, the chosen one, the golden boy, the boy who lived. He was no bloody coward, and he refused to let himself look like one. He hated feeling vulnerable. Harry was known for staying calm in situations like these, looking for solutions that were beneficial and safe, but still being ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Harry didn't always like this reputation.

He rambled on about that night in the maze, growing angry as he spoke. They had lost Cedric that night. Harry had seen the light drain from his face. 

"And Draco.." Harry's voice softened. "Your dad."

Draco looked down, his face falling.

"I'm aware."

"Promise me you'll never be one of them."

Harry's tone was desperate, pulling Draco's gaze back. Draco stared into Harry's eyes, full of fear and desperation and anger all at once. It was unlike what Draco had seen of Harry. 

Draco closed the distance between them fiercely, hand tugging at Harry's collar. It was passionate and rough, Draco's lips capturing Harry's in a fit that was nearly bruising. He bit and sucked at Harry's lips, tongue making a grand entrance and fighting with Harry's. It was anything but graceful, all teeth and tongues and all too noisy, but it was a promise.

\---

There was a few days before the students were released from school for summer break. It was Thursday, Draco and Harry's last meeting of the year.

All students had packed their things into trunks, cleaning out dorms of important possessions in preparation for summer.

Malfoy, however, with everything on his conscience, was all but excited to return home for the summer. Return to his father.

He had received a letter from his father at the beginning of the week, his sleek, neat handwriting on fine parchment far too elegant to deliver such a rough message. His father wrote to him about the meetings of Death Eaters as Voldemort began his rise to power once more. There had been chatter about a deed that needed to be completed to satisfy Voldemort's plans of domination. Voldemort had mentioned the possibility of selecting Draco for the job. The idea made Draco positively sick to his stomach.

How would he tell Harry? Would he tell Harry at all?

Alright, maybe he was a bit too panicked, especially when it hadn't even been confirmed yet.

But Draco couldn't help the feeling of dread that filled him at the idea of returning home for summer, especially when such a heinous crime was in the works. Especially when he had been suggested to follow through with it.

It was his final meeting of the year with Harry tonight. He debated telling him.

Draco had been laying in his bunk all day, excusing himself from classes with the murmur to his room mates of some false illness or another. He had stared at the ceiling, alone with his thoughts and absolutely sick to his stomach with nerves.

After classes had ended, he had taken to closing his curtain to avoid any socialization, as he was not prepared for the duty. Night fell, hours passing agonizingly slow but all too fast at the same time. Draco had yet to leave his bed that day.

By 11, his room mates had gone to sleep. Draco was crying. 

It felt like with each minute that ticked by, Draco grew more nervous. More upset. More scared. 

He had not even managed to get out of bed for meals that day. He doubted anything could help his feeling of helplessness.

By 11:30, Draco was sobbing. It was good he had cast a silencing charm around his bunk, as he was an absolute mess. He choked on every breath; he hoped Harry would just assume he was sick.

By midnight, he hoped Harry had not stayed up to wait on him. He stared at his ceiling, tears drying on his cheeks and his fathers letter scorched into his brain.

Draco's unspoken promise to Harry weighed heavy on his heart.


	11. Unbreakable Vow

Dark curtains covered the windows of the room, allowing little to no light in, painting the room dim as possible in the middle of the day. There were a few candles places strategically around the room to provide light where it mattered most. Bellatrix, sniffing and poking at things, decided it fun to blow a few out, even putting one out with her fingers. Narcissa noticed none of her sister's nosiness as she poked around possessions that weren't hers. 

Severus entered, long, dark robes chasing after his every step. He glanced at Narcissa, sitting on one of the dark, leather seats, a glass of wine in her hand, half full. She looked sad, looking up at him. Snape's attention drew to Bellatrix, poking at a small box of knick knacks on the fireplace mantel.

His eyes remained on Bellatrix even as he opened his mouth to speak, voice slow and heavy, words long and drawn out.

"Greetings, Narcissa. Lovely to see you. And... Bellatrix." 

Bellatrix continued to pick at things of interest.

"I trust you've been taught not to put fingers on things that aren't yours, correct?"

Bellatrix snapped her head in Severus' direction, her wild mane of hair moving as she did. Her dark eyes narrowed in a glare.

Narcissa looked back at her sister, a tired expression weighing down her face.

"Bella, please."

Bellatrix' narrowed eyes turned to her sister. Her voice was impatient and shrill.

"Get on with it, then!"

Narcissa turned in her seat, facing Severus again. She took a small sip of wine, sadness playing at her lips as she drank.

"Severus," Narcissa began, her tone soft and afraid. She set down her glass of wine at a nearby coffee table, returning both of her hands to her lap. "It's about Draco."

Severus raised his eyebrows slowly.

"As you know, our family is associated with the Dark Lord." She looked fidgety and anxious even speaking of it. "It's been in the works for some time now, I trust you know."

Snape's eyes lingered on Narcissa, sharp and knowing. He gave a slow, sure nod.

"If we are speaking of Draco's assignment, I am aware. Voldemort has ordered your son to kill Dumbledore, correct?"

Narcissa's eyes fell to the ground; they looked glassy and hurt. She nodded.

She tore her gaze from the ground to look back up at Snape.

"He's just a boy, Severus."

Snape pressed his lips together, sighing through his nose and looking away.

"What about Potter? Do you believe that will make the task more difficult for Draco to fulfill?"

Bellatrix' face pulled up in amused surprise. She looked as if she was about to make a snide remark about Draco and Harry, but Snape's narrowed eyes stopped her, her smile dying. Narcissa looked confused.

"Harry Potter? It is without a doubt that Draco has feelings for him, he's talked to me about him non stop since he was a boy."

Snape sighed sadly, returning his eyes to Narcissa, frowning.

"It is to my understanding that they are a couple."

Narcissa made a small exclaim at the news, retrieving her glass of wine for another long, thirsty sip.

"Well, now that it has been brought to my attention, I suppose the task will be much harder for him."

Snape took a cautious step toward where Narcissa had sat. She returned her glass of wine, nearly empty, to its place on the coffee table.

"The Potter boy is particularly keen on Dumbledore. It is clear that he views Dumbledore as a mentor of sorts, and I trust that every student and teacher, Draco included, has figured that much. I presume Draco will hesitate in fulfilling the Dark Lord's wishes with the knowledge that it would be a betrayal to his dearest Harry Potter."

Snape spoke the last part with pain in his voice, his eyes and face oozing sympathy.

"Severus. I don't think he'll be able to do it."

A beat of silence.

"Do you wish me to look after him? If you wish it, I can make my best attempt at shielding Draco from the pain of his.. Situation."

Narcissa's eyes lit up, her expression hopeful. She rose from the leather seat quickly, stepping toward Severus.

"Would you?"

Snape lifted his head, raising his chin as if he were agreeing.

Bellatrix' voice rose from the opposite end of the room, her face pulled up in a sour, snarky expression. 

"He's bluffing!"

Narcissa and Severus turned their attention toward her, Snape, as always, looked unamused.

"They're just empty words, Severus. Why should 'Cissy believe you?"

Bellatrix looked at her sister as if she was stupid, naive. Her eyebrows knit together angrily.

"Make the vow."

Narcissa, phased by her sister's words, turned her gaze from Bellatrix to Snape. He met her eyes when she looked.

Snape, unafraid, raised his brows slightly.

"Take out your wand."

Bellatrix' eyes grew in shock, matching Narcissa's. Narcissa gave a slight exhale of disbelief, eyes darting between Snape and her sister.

Snape offered his hand, Bellatrix drawing closer, wand in hand. Narcissa took Severus' extended hand, holding tightly to his wrist as he mirrored the action.

"Do you, Severus Snape, promise to look after Draco in this time of desperation?"

Snape's face hardened.

"I will."

"Do you, Severus Snape, promise to fulfill the deed if Draco should fail?"

"I will."

Bellatrix smirked, her eyes wild and her face malicious in Snape's peripheral. She looked between her sister and Severus, circling around them as she thought.

"And do you, Severus Snape.." She paused, settling on a spot behind Snape where her head peered over his shoulder. She whispered cold and harsh into his ear. "..Promise to keep Draco from Harry to the best of your ability? To ease Draco's pain?"

Narcissa's lips weighed down into a more intense frown. Her eyes were watery, as if she could cry at any moment. Snape's jaw clenched.

"I," Snape spoke through clenched teeth, "I will."

Bellatrix gave a stripe of golden magic with her wand, gently interlacing Narcissa and Severus' joined arms. It encircled their arms beautifully, locking into place and disappearing. It was done.

Bellatrix shoved her sister from the room with urgency. Narcissa had begun to cry, a few tears dripping down her face. She held Severus' sympathetic gaze as her sister dragged her from the scene.

It was going to be a rough year.


	12. When the Day Met the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never been more confused in his life.

Sixth year was dawning, and Harry had never been more confused about the behavior of Draco Malfoy. When we're talking about Draco Malfoy here, that is to say a lot.

It had all started at the close of the previous year. Draco had not missed an astronomy tower meet up, even if he was deathly ill, and Harry sometimes found himself urging Draco to go back to the dungeons where he could rest because really, there were a few times he had arrived coughing up his lungs and with bags under his eyes from disturbed sleep. He always swore he was fine and totally not dying, which yes, while "dying" is an exaggeration, Draco could be in awful condition and still show at precisely 11:30. The idea that he could stand Harry up the day of their last meeting left Harry flabbergasted, alone, and upset in the astronomy tower, wishing he could've seen Draco bask in the moonlight for a final time that year.

This wasn't all, either. They were well into a week of their sixth year, every one happily mingling and bustling with anticipation of the new year. Friends reunited and enjoyed each other's company before the real weight of the year could rest on their shoulders. Harry was delighted to be met with the familiar smiles of his friends, but received no such greeting from Draco.

Frankly, Draco seemed to be ignoring Harry.

Harry, per usual, found himself spacing out and spacing in on Draco Malfoy over meals, who seemed anything but interested in Harry. Draco rested his head on his hand most of the time, only really picking at his food and staring at it rather than ever actually eating any of it. It worried Harry, really. He swore he could've seen Draco grow skinnier, but maybe he was just seeing things. Nonetheless, there was something wrong. This cold shoulder effect did not only hit Harry, but Draco's friends as well. Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were often found having their own conversation, Draco present but not exactly there. Other days they could be seen staring at him, gently prodding at him for information that he seemed too glum to give. 

It didn't help that Snape had switched the seating arrangement in class, either, putting Draco and Harry on complete opposite sides of the room. Harry figured Snape must really be out to get him, going all strict on their seating like that. To Harry's great surprise, Draco earned a seat right next to Professor Snape's desk as if he was a grade schooler in trouble. Had Draco done something wrong?

Harry found himself attempting to pass Draco notes anyway, regardless of the seating obstacle. This went on for months.

He did everything he knew how to, sometimes having them flown to Draco when Professor Snape's back was turned, sometimes having them passed to Draco through other students, and sometimes even managed to slip Draco something on the way out of the Great Hall. What peeved Harry most about this was Draco's decision to never actually read Harry's notes, often balling them up and stuffing them away into his things or into his robes somewhere, sometimes even tossing them carelessly over his shoulder and to the floor.

Harry wasn't going crazy, right? Draco was totally ignoring him. Harry couldn't stand it.

Harry needed a new strategy, and fast. He wasn't sure what Draco's problem was, and knowing Draco, he wouldn't open up easily, especially if something was really bothering him. Harry decided that if Draco wouldn't care to actually open his notes, maybe he could just write his message on the outside; Draco wouldn't have a choice but to see it that way.

Ripping a small corner of paper from his notebook, Harry prepared his quill. He folded the piece of paper messily to match his previous notes.

_astronomy tower after class. we have to talk._

He scribbled it quickly, messy but not bad enough to make it unreadable. Waiting until Snape had himself occupied, he nudged the unfamiliar student closer to the middle of the room who knew the drill, and began the line of passage. Harry made a mental note to get her name eventually; he totally owed her.

The message made its way to Malfoy, who took note to be extra sly receiving it due to his close proximity to Snape's desk. He examined the outside, normally marked with a cheesy _To: Draco, From: Harry_ that was absent this time around. Even from across the room, Harry could see Draco lightly raise his eyebrows at the message on the folded piece of paper. On a normal day, Harry was sure Draco would've turned to Harry to acknowledge the message, but as today seemed to be anything but normal, Draco tucked the note into his robes as he had grown used to lately, returning to his work. At least he had read it, Harry figured. Hopefully, he'd comply. It wasn't as if Harry was asking for the moon.

Class went by agonizingly slow, each minute ticking away inside Harry's brain as he awaited Draco's compliance anxiously. The minute class was dismissed, Harry made certain that he and Malfoy were two of the last to leave the room. He let Draco pass out of the doors without even so much as a glance in Harry's direction. Harry was following a safe distance behind to see if Draco would head to meet him in the astronomy tower after all. When Draco turned, heading off somewhere completely different, Harry was surging forward.

"Malfoy!"

Draco did not turn around to acknowledge him. When Harry found himself close enough, he took a firm hold of Draco's arm, spinning him around to face him.

"Malfoy."

He hated when Draco refused to look at him.

"Draco, please."

The use of his first name caused Draco to visibly soften, although he still refused to meet Harry's gaze. He looked almost guilty.

"Were you not going to meet me in the astronomy tower? I just wanted to talk to you."

"I have other things to do, Potter," Draco spat instantly, cold and distant compared to his usual behavior near Harry. Harry really didn't understand, and Draco wouldn't let him. Had he done something wrong?

"Right, then. I guess I can talk to you here, instead, if you'd prefer."

Draco sighed.

"What is it?"

"What's going on with you? Why won't you talk to me?"

Draco finally looked at him, sadness etched into his pale, pointy features. 

"I've been.. Busy. Nothing personal, don't worry, Potter."

Why wouldn't Draco say his first name?

"Right, then," Harry didn't believe him. He knew how Draco was though, typically closed off and out of touch with his emotions, so he figured that when Draco felt like opening up about it, he would. Harry had recalled times where he just needed to be alone, and he felt himself easily forgiving Draco's behavior. He just wanted Draco to be okay. "So, Slughorn is having a party this weekend. I was wondering if you'd like to be my guest."

Draco's face twisted. He looked conflicted. Really, what was with him?

"I regret to inform you, Potter, that I have plans this weekend," Draco said matter of factly, his jaw firm and head held high. Like night and day, he softened again, adding a small, "maybe another time."

Turning on his heels, Draco made a hasty getaway. Harry had never been more confused in his life.

\---

Hermione moved at a fast pace in the library, and an even faster pace when she was upset. She walked up and down the rows of shelves, letting her books fly back into place, Harry stumbling behind her in a clumsy attempt to stay caught up.

"Was I under the impression Ron and I would be attending Slughorn's party together? Yes." She whipped around to face Harry, much to his relief. "But if he would rather snog Lavender in his free time, then I've managed to make arrangements for myself."

Harry's heart sunk.

"What? I figured that we might be able to go together, as neither of us can really go with who we'd like."

Hermione looked around in disbelief that she had not shared the idea.

"Why didn't I think of that? Ron is with Lavender and Draco is off doing his own thing, we could've gone together!"

Harry gave an awkward shrug of dismissal.

"It's alright. Who are you planning on going with?"

She looked back to him uncomfortably.

"It's a surprise. Who exactly are you going to ask? You're the chosen one; you can't just ask anyone."

Considering the only person he really wanted to accompany him at the party would be absent, Harry really began to consider going stag.

\---

Harry had asked Luna. 

When Ron heard of this, he made a snide remark about Harry's pattern with blondes, much to Harry's discomfort. Luna was his friend though, nothing more than that, and she was aware of that much, as was Harry. He figured that Luna, all knowing as she was, was probably aware of his relations with Draco, especially as many had begun catching on.

Harry discovered that he quite enjoyed Luna's company, really, a lot more than he had previously expected himself to. Harry didn't find himself saying much around her, which really took a weight off his shoulders. He could just stand with her, smiling, nodding, and listening as she rambled on to him about conspiracies and her motivation to start a new religion entirely based off of nature. It's not like he'd have anything interesting to add to the conversation, anyways, as Luna fueled it entirely alone, keeping the talk ablaze with the flames of her ideals. She was quite the character. She'd told him about how she had worn shoes to sleep due to her sleepwalking, and Harry was sold for the night.

Among all the delightful buzz, smooth jazz, and finger foods of the party, there began a minor calamity. Malfoy stumbled into the party, Filch dragging him by his collar. He looked like he hadn't slept, distressed and messy.

"Get your hands off of me!"

Filch did not comply, yanking Draco a final time as if to show him off to the guests.

"I found this student wandering the corridors-"

"Okay!! Okay, I was gate crashing."

Draco, still held at his collar by Filch, locked eyes with Harry for the first time in months. Harry frowned at him; Draco's eyes were full of an apology Harry knew he'd never speak.

Snape, seemingly out of nowhere, strode up to Filch. 

"Much appreciated, Filch. I'll vouch for Mr. Malfoy from here on out."

Snape took hold of Draco the way Filch had and gave Draco a dirty stare. Draco, still staring at Harry, failed to recognize it. Harry was sure the whole room could feel the suffocating tension. Filch gave a grimace before leaving. Harry saw Draco fade into the dimly lit corridor, dragged by his collar.

Once he decided they were a far enough distance away from the party, Snape slammed Draco into one of the walls, not bothering to be careful as he did so.

"Draco, you understand the situation, do you not?"

Desperation filled Draco's face, making his chest tighten and his throat close.

"He chose me, alright? He chose me, and he thinks I can do it; he expects me to do it, but I can't," Malfoy's voice broke, becoming thick with dread, "I can't do it!"

"Then let go of your silly love affair with the Potter boy!"

"I can't do that, though!" Draco was raising his voice, echoing off the walls of the empty corridors. "I don't want to!"

Snape let off of Malfoy, easing his grip and taking a step back to sigh. His face, usually expressionless and dull, hung with sympathy for Draco.

"He chose you, Draco. The Dark Lord chose you. You understand that, yes?"

Draco, tears beginning to well up in his eyes, nodded.

"Staying with Harry Potter would do nothing but pain the both of you." Snape paused, looking off to the side. He almost looked as if he felt guilty for advising this. "And.. Love him as you might," Snape began, careful as he spoke. The word startled Draco, looking up to Snape with fresh tears beginning to illuminate his face. "Love him as you might, you know what you have to do, Draco. Your duty lies with your family."

Harry, who had shoved his way out of the now slightly awkward party, peeked around the corner to see Draco fall into Snape's arms in a hug. The image was unsettling.

He hadn't heard them say anything, no, he hadn't made it out of the party in time to eavesdrop. 

The only thing of importance he managed to catch was Draco's wretched, muffled sobs, Snape awkwardly holding him as he cried.


	13. Forgive Me, Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was clear just by looking at him that his heart truly did not lie with the rest of the Death Eaters, but with something else entirely. Draco might even dare to think it belonged to Harry.

Draco was really, really tired of feeling so torn.

The long dining tables of Malfoy Manor were entirely full, not one vacant seat left over. Occupied by dark, brooding men and women, Draco felt entirely out of place, young, trapped, and unwilling up against so many who were devoted to the cause. The cause, however, was one Draco could not bear to even imagine. All occupants of the dining room listened to Voldemort's every breath, followed his every move. Voldemort had never been more insistent with his orders, urgency lining every word that left his tongue through sharp, intimidating teeth. 

Voldemort's highest priority at the moment was the death of Harry Potter. Draco's dearest Harry Potter. It made Draco feel absolutely ill.

Not only did he fancy Harry, but he'd grown to care for him immensely. Harry was a well known classmate, someone who'd done more for Draco than he could even recall his family doing. Now that the idea was presented to the table, Draco felt suffocated. His chest tightened with an impossible weight at the thought of someone he held so dearly dying. He couldn't bear to be bound to a group he was so unwillingly to be a part of, a group with rotten intentions working toward a cause Draco could never make himself believe in. Draco wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, proclaim it until his throat was raw, but what would it bring upon his family?

He was a Malfoy, after all. Being a Malfoy came before being Draco.

So Voldemort droned on, his voice rising and falling in crescendos and decrescendos as his passion wavered. The last time Draco had checked, he had been exceedingly excited to tell his followers of his intentions to break down the opposing side to eventually make his way to Harry Potter. Harry's death would aid Voldemort in his rise to power, as Harry was their vision of a hero. The Death Eaters' eyes followed Voldemort as he paced at the head of the table, his ghost like fabric clinging to his shriveled frame and flowing eerily with his movements. His audience leaned over the table in anticipation of what he would say next.

Draco, however, could not care less of what was being announced. He found himself resting his chin on his hand, much as he did in the Great Hall when he was feeling glum. He stared at everything and at nothing, eyes glazed over in an impossible trance. It was clear just by looking at him that his heart truly did not lie with the rest of the Death Eaters, but with something else entirely. Draco might even dare to think it belonged to Harry.

Draco's parents sat to each of his sides, his mother seeming nearly as out of it as Draco himself did. By her face, you could tell she was in attendance as a duty to her husband rather than at her own will, but she paid attention anyway, eyes careful and apprehensive at Voldemort's words. His father, however, sat to his right, had never looked to be so interested in anything before. His tired eyes followed Voldemort in full devotion, and something in his face pleaded for forgiveness. His eyes carried bags that screamed of his fatigue, desperation, longing. Draco nearly felt pity upon seeing his father so hollow. He almost missed who his father used to be. Almost.

Draco continued to stare at the dark wood of the dining table to meet his insatiable need to be distracted. Voldemort, however, figured that this just wouldn't do.

"Draco, have you something on your mind?"

The way he spoke broke Draco from his trance, his words slithering up from the base of Draco's spine slowly, snake like. He averted his gaze from the table, but still failed to meet Voldemort's eyes.

"No, my Lord."

Voldemort's face twisted in amusement, narrowing his eyes at Draco's peculiarity. 

"I trust you were devising a personal plan to aid you in the slaying of Dumbledore, correct?" Voldemort took slow, patient steps around the table as he spoke, moving toward Draco. He crept behind him, a reptilian like hand creeping up the back of Draco's neck and slithering to rest on Draco's shoulder. Draco's muscles tensed; he felt as if he was absolutely about to lose the contents of his stomach. He nodded, weakly, refusing to meet the Dark Lord's gaze.

"I have faith in you, Draco. I believe that you will be able to fulfill my wishes to the best of your ability in a timely fashion. I put my trust in you," Voldemort leaned down to the side of Draco's face, brushing against his ear. His cold, drawn out breathes teased Draco's cheek, making him shiver at the feeling. Turning to speak directly into Draco's ear, Voldemort spoke his question in a low, malicious whisper. "Do you have faith in me?"

Draco, again, without turning to meet the eyes that sent fear through every inch of his body, nodded.

Voldemort retracted immediately, displeased with the lack of Draco's enthusiasm.

"Is that so?"

Draco nodded, frantically this time.

With a rise of volume, Voldemort's face twisted into a glare, his movements becoming sharp and abrasive. "Say it then!"

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Say it then, boy!"

Voldemort, with a single snag, ferociously whipped Draco's chair around to face him.

"Look me in the eyes, Draco, and tell me." His voice fell dangerously calm, inching toward Draco's face. He had no choice but to look into the cold, dead eyes before him.

Trembling, he hoped Voldemort could not hear the shaking in his voice.

"I have faith in you, my Lord."

He was pushed back around to face the table in another angry outburst. Satisfied, Voldemort strode back to the head of the table. Draco made certain to pay attention to his every word after that.

\---

Voldemort had dismissed the meeting. About an hour had passed, and the last of the Death Eaters were ending their brooding conversations to file out of the manor, bellies warm with wine and anticipation. Draco had never been more grateful to get out of a meeting like this, all the adults consulting him about his plan of action when it came to Dumbledore's death were really starting to make it sink in. Voldemort had ordered Draco to kill Voldemort. The way that all the Death Eaters cooed over him, encouraged him, congratulated him on the opportunity made Draco want to disappear forever. He wanted to just escape the scene and flee to his room, but he knew his mother and father would deem him rude for the action. So he suffered in the awkward, suspenseful conversations until the last of the Death Eaters left the Malfoys to the privacy of their home once again, dark, elegant clothing chasing their every move as they made a grand exit from the tall, eerie doors. Draco, although he felt he was out of the woods for the moment, had no such luck.

As he turned on his heels to climb the magnificent staircase and duck into his room for the night, or maybe even the study, as reading soothed him, he was caught by a stern, familiar voice that made him stop in his tracks.

"Draco."

His father said his name calmly, dangerously calmly, as Voldemort previously had. The calm before the inevitable storm, he figured. The steady tone of his father's voice never failed to make his heart freeze in fear.

Before he could formulate a response, there was a rough, furious hand on his shoulder, whipping him around. 

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking," fury rose in his father's voice as he inched closer to Draco's face. "But the last ounces of respect this family has rests on your shoulders. I will not have you staring off into space and sacrificing the Malfoy name!"

He was shouting by now, his breath hot and angry against Draco's face, who was reluctantly holding his father's eyes. He sincerely wished to disappear. 

When Draco said nothing, he was met with a furious smack that echoed the barren walls of the manor. His father was shaking with rage, a bruising grip on Draco's arm. 

"I don't know what it is that's got you losing sight of what's important," Lucius' body wracked with his anger, "but I trust that you will sort it out soon enough to uphold this family's pride. I wish to remind you, Draco, you are a Malfoy. It seems you may have forgotten."

Lucius let go of Draco, a look of disgust twisted into his features. He strode off, mumbling something under his breath angrily, as Draco sunk onto the bottom steps of the staircase in pained defeat.

What was he going to do?

His head hung low, face beginning to throb from his father's blow. Narcissa rushing to him to lay a comforting arm around his body set him off. The sound of his choked sobs echoed painfully.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." Draco's body wracked with sobs. 

His mother pulled him close, allowing him to rest his head on her shoulder while he cried. His tears seeped into the expensive fabric of her clothing.

Narcissa stroked his hair, her eyes welling with tears at seeing her son in such pain. His body shook with his heaving, her comforting embrace attempting to soothe him.

"I'm sorry, darling."

Words poured from Draco's mouth in a ramble, thought after thought released into the atmosphere. He only hoped his father wouldn't hear them.

"I can't do it! I'm a bloody coward, and I can't bloody do it! I can't kill Dumbledore, I can't!" He sat up to look at his mother desperately. He angrily ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it out of place. He gave a quick wipe at his face to rid it of tears. "I don't want to. I don't want to do this any more, I don't want to be a Death Eater. I don't want to listen to what Voldemort says. I don't want to take orders from a corrupt leader of a group that I don't even want to be in! I didn't sign up for this! And, Harry-"

Fresh tears poured from his puffy, red eyes, and he fell back into his mother's embrace as he cried. He couldn't even bear to finish speaking the thought.

"You have to stop seeing him, Draco."

He shook his head furiously as she held him, his body wracking more painfully with louder sobs.

She spoke in a whisper. "Regardless of whether you and I have our hearts invested in Voldemort's plans, they will be carried out. With or without us. He plans to have the Potter boy killed, and you know that. It is safest to step away, Draco. Because of your father's investment in the group, we are, by default, members ourselves. We have no choice but to follow the Dark Lord's commands. If not, we would not be able to make it out alive." She paused.

"Don't you wish to live, Draco?"

Draco remained tucked away in her shoulder, his cries dissolving slowly. His body ceased its shaking, and his breathing returned to normal. As he fell back to steady breathing and drier eyes, he still found himself unable to produce an answer to his mother's question.


	14. I Love You (At Least, I Think I Do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a duty, and that duty lies with his family. He knows what he has to do, and he knows what it means regarding his relationship with Harry. Draco has one more thing in mind before he executes the deed though, something that will spite everyone who put him in this nasty situation to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains smut. Either don't read it, or enjoy it, you sickos. x

Draco returned to Hogwarts after Christmas break with a newfound appreciation for normalcy. At this point in time, normal meant putting on a neutral expression around his friends and refusing to look at Potter, which is, surprisingly, what he was more than thrilled to do. Anything besides what was going on at home was fine by Draco. 

Harry continued with the note passing and the staring, which Draco always refused to receive. Draco had a plan brewing, one to finalize his cold shoulder effect and, reluctantly, terminate his relationship with Harry. Long conversations over the holiday with his mother had cleared up what was blurry, and he had a family to keep alive, didn't he? Draco found himself struggling to find an alternative choice, to which he found the threat of death staring him cold and hard in the face. His parents were right, weren't they? Draco was being ridiculous. He was only a teenager, sixteen years old, and he was sure he'd find a suitable bloke at another point in time. Perhaps, if Draco was lucky, one that didn't have a target on his back.

Before he closed the curtain on anything that was beginning to brew between he and Harry, though, he had one final, personal wish to fulfill. One filled with spite, for his father, his mother, for Snape, and certainly, for Voldemort himself. One that would rock he and Harry's world entirely, bringing a twisted close to their potential as a pair. Draco considered it to be a gigantic "fuck you," of sorts, figuratively and literally.

Catching each other leaving the Great Hall seemed to be a prime form of communication for the two of them, so Draco went with that.

Much as Harry had done to him many times, Draco awaited Harry's passage through the doors of the Great Hall after dinner one fateful evening. It was Friday; he hoped Harry didn't have plans. Hell, he figured, Draco's offer might clear Harry's schedule entirely. Draco hadn't spoken to Harry in months; the most attention he'd given Harry this year was accidentally meeting his gaze once or twice. Judging by the way Harry's eyes were nearly always on Draco, he figured Harry would be quite open to any conversation Draco was willing to have.

Draco watched the entrance of the Great Hall. Soon enough, Harry made his way through. He was alone, to Draco's surprise. Easier for him, right? Draco grabbed Harry's sleeve and tugged him to the side.

"We have to.. Talk."

Harry's bright green eyes lit a fire in Draco's stomach, and it made him think that maybe this wasn't such a great idea, after all. Harry received his statement with all too much enthusiasm, poor guy. Draco felt his stomach tie in knots. Harry was making this so much harder, but he knew what he had to do.

"About?"

Draco, for the first time since last year, grabbed for Harry's hand. He was visibly surprised, but didn't make any complaints. Draco, without an explanation, was dragging Harry to the Room of Requirement. He was sure that there would be a bed in there, somewhere, right? If not, they'd have to go to one of their dorms, which would cause all too much talking among their classmates, which would only make things more difficult. Draco intended for it to be a quick, clean execution; he intended for all the ties to be severed after tonight. Any questions from his classmates would just make Draco think further into the situation, and he knew that for the split to be successful, he would have to do an awful lot of not thinking. He had to go numb, and he couldn't have any one coming along with their questions or comments to make Draco think about it when he was trying to avoid it all, it just wouldn't do. Draco had bigger things to worry about, for example, trying to keep his sanity among the chaos.

The walk there was a blur of questions from Harry, words that Draco couldn't bring himself to pay attention to. Harry's palm grew sweaty in Draco's grip, nerves, Draco presumed. Maybe Harry's hand was not the sweaty one after all, now that Draco really thought about it.

Draco dragged Harry into the Room of Requirement through giant, elegant doors, the room cluttered with anything and everything imaginable. Draco hoped again that the clutter would include a bed somewhere. Draco, who was still leading Harry roughly by clasped, sweaty hands, tore his eyes around the room in search of a bed. To his luck but not to his surprise, his grey eyes locked on a magnificent bed tucked away behind piles of junk, nearly hidden from view. He spotted it due to one of the high risen bed posts of dark, aged wood. He tugged Harry closer to it, revealing the bed to be made messily; others must have used it for the exact same thing. The royal blue duvet was thrown sloppily over the mattress. Draco whipped around to finally face Harry, letting go of his hand. Harry looked absolutely baffled.

"Draco, what are we-?"

"Kiss me, Harry."

Harry's brows drew together again in absolute confusion at Draco's behavior. Shit. Draco had not considered the possibility of Potter declining his offer. Harry kept his safe distance, not obliging.

"What's going on? You haven't had much to say to me all year; you've been a git, if you ask me. Suddenly you're yanking me around the castle hallways, tugging me into the Room of Requirement, and setting me up for a shag without even a word?"

Harry really, really was not making this grand finale much easier. Draco sighed, defeated, stepping toward Harry. He figured this might be the last time he was truly able to show his soft affections, so he decided that maybe it was best to savor it. Draco stepped toward Harry, regret and reluctance filing into his chest like a sudden tsunami. He really hated he would have to give this up after tonight. Holding Potter's gaze, Malfoy leaned their foreheads together.

"I know, Harry, and I'm sorry. I've had.. I've been.. Busy. I'm trying to make it up to you, if you'll have me."

Draco's tone made Harry visibly softer, words leaving Draco's lips and ghosting across Harry's in a tease. Harry relaxed into Draco, leaning closer to his lips. He mouthed an "okay" against Draco's mouth, allowing Draco to indulge in the warmth of his breath. Harry closed the distance, finally adhering to Draco's wishes. 

It was the most loving kiss they'd ever shared.

Harry's tongue prodded experimentally at Draco's lips, slipping inside effortlessly. The feeling of Harry's tongue against Draco's was enough to make Draco groan, Harry swallowing the delicious noise. Their kiss was firm and sure, but soft and kind, and it made Draco's pants tighten as easily as it made his stomach rise in a swirl of butterflies. Harry gave a playful nudge of his hips against Draco's, groaning roughly against Draco's mouth as he did, their teeth clacking. Harry's raspy, gravelly tone was enough to knock Draco off his feet, collapsing backward onto the soft, expensive duvet. Harry did not lose Draco's lips, tumbling forward and on top of him. Harry's weight toppling onto Draco's chest so suddenly caused him to gasp, their bodies pressed flush against each other's. Draco broke from Harry's lips, scooting them both to comfort in the bed. He returned to the kiss immediately, absolutely intoxicated by the sensation.

Harry, still caught up in Draco's kiss, lifted his weight from Draco's body, his hands resting on either side of Draco's head. Losing the warmth of Harry's chest pressed flat against his own, Draco's hands rushed to find a home, one tossed lazily around Harry's shoulders, one tangled in thick, black locks. They finally parted, panting. Harry stared down to Draco, his green eyes nearly consumed entirely by his blown out pupils. His face was beet red, his lips swollen and glossy from their impossible kiss. Draco decided he could probably stare at the scene for the rest of his life.

"Can we uh," Harry's voice trembled awkwardly, his eyes darting away in embarrassment. He lifted a hand from the bed to run fingers through his messy hair. "Can we slow down a bit?"

Draco nodded softly, only enough for Harry to see. He leaned from his position on the bed to crane up to Harry's level, pressing a loving, lingering kiss to his glazed lips. Harry smiled as Draco did it.

"I just wanna.. I dunno." Harry tucked his face into Draco's neck as if he was embarrassed to speak. Seriously, Draco thought. Harry had literally made it out of Voldemort's grasp alive, and he was too scared to communicate during.. Whatever it is this was.

"I just wanna explore a bit more," Harry concluded. He littered Draco's neck with a handful of light kisses. Draco titled his head to the side to give Harry a better access, muttering some affirmative as he did so.

Harry's sweet, peppered kisses on Draco's neck inched up his jaw and even to his ear, becoming more than just innocent pecks as he went along. By the time he had come full circle, returning to Draco's neck, the kisses were hot, open mouthed and lingering, making sure Draco felt Harry's tongue dart out against his skin. Harry's tongue dragged across Draco's neck so slowly every time it made an appearance; Draco swore he could feel each and every taste bud as Harry went along. Not that he was complaining, of course, no. He found himself tugging at Harry's mop of hair as his neck was ravished, arching off the bed into the feeling of Harry's radiating warmth. Sometimes he really, really hated being such a hormonal teenager. It made him like this. It made him needy. Needy for the attention Potter knew just how to deliver, even better than Malfoy could have ever imagined.

As if reading Draco's insatiable mind, Harry let a warm hand bypass the obstacle of Draco's shirt, untucking the expensive button down from Draco's trousers to give him the ability to roam underneath it. His arm found its way under Draco's shirt and raked across his bare chest hungrily, earning a whine from Malfoy as he did. Harry cautiously unbuttoned Draco's shirt, sucking an aggressive, dark bruise against his neck as he went along. The exposure felt relieving to Draco, to say the least. The harsh, cold air, not so much, though. He instantly got chills, the cool air shocking his skin and making his nipples harden to attention. What warmed him, though, was Harry's eyes tracing every inch of his abdomen in awe, his green eyes half lidded with want. A want that was only for Draco. A want Draco returned to Harry. 

Harry ceased his lustful staring as he felt Draco's eyes on him, just as full of want and need as he knew his were. Something about Draco's face made Harry find himself against Draco's lips again, promising more. Their kiss deepened, growing heavy and slipping into rougher territory. There was teeth clacking, and lots of it, tongues battling each other desperately for friction. Harry rolled his hips into Draco's, feeling Draco's moan harmoniously against his own. 

Draco's hands found Harry's back, attempting a quick tug at Harry's shirt. For once, Harry got the hint. He reluctantly left their kiss to toss the unwanted fabric elsewhere, Draco's lips chasing his as he leaned away. Harry's erection had grown impossibly in the passing moments, and any wish he had to take this slow quickly vanished as the feeling of Draco's bare chest against his sent a twitch to his groin. It seemed Draco was on the same page, reaching to palm at Harry's crotch between them. Harry furrowed his brows, releasing Malfoy's lips momentarily to breathe his moan into existence from the back of his throat, the bottom of his stomach. A smirk tugged at Draco's lips, continuing to rub delightful friction into Harry's now throbbing hard on, eliciting a few more foul moans from Harry's lips, making Draco's smirk grow. 

"Fuck, Draco," Harry breathed, his voice ragged and desperate already, despite barely being touched. Draco ground his palm against Harry's crotch at a quicker pace, earning a delightful string of explicit language to pour from Harry's mouth, Draco's name occasionally thrown into the mix. Draco would really have to remember the sound. 

Much to Harry's dismay, Draco ceased his movements, leaving Harry disappointed and finally catching his breath. Harry refocused, seeing Draco beginning to fumble with the button of his own pants. Harry followed the action, beginning to shakily remove his own. Draco stared at Harry expectantly. The moment he was rid of his trousers, leaving only underwear between them, Draco wasted no time in letting his hand sink into Harry's boxers swiftly, grabbing hold of his rock hard cock in one move. The feeling of Draco's slender digits wrapped around his throbbing length made Harry cry out, ducking his head into Draco's neck in embarrassment at the sound. It made Draco chuckle, giving Harry's cock a firm, experimental tug. Harry released another strangled noise, nearly creating an echo in the large room. Draco repeated the action at a quickening pace, earning another string of delicious sounds from Harry that were released against his neck. The beginning of a familiar feeling overtook Harry, his stomach coiling into knots, tension building. He knew he was bound to come, if Draco didn't stop, and how embarrassing would that be? They had barely started. 

Before he could feel release, Harry grabbed at Draco's wrist firmly, pulling it from its spot in Harry's boxers. As much as he enjoyed it, he hoped he would get to experience more with Draco, if Draco would have him. The loss of sensation in his groin left him more frustrated than before, but also more coherent. He stared down at Malfoy, who was looking smug. Draco's eyes held a desperate need, one that Harry knew he had to meet. Harry sighed, catching his breath and sitting up from his position. Draco sat up with him, looking at him in confusion. 

"How far do you want to go, exactly?"

"As far as you'd like," Draco breathed, voice needy and promising. It sounded like an affirmation to Harry, and he was back on top of Draco in an instant, his lips hungrily devouring every breath that left Draco's trembling, bruised lips. 

Harry stayed on Draco's lips as he let his hand wander teasingly down Draco's abdomen, gracing over his groin and moving straight to massage the inside of his thigh. Draco whined at the touch, mostly out of frustration that he was being teased. It was Harry's turn to smirk at Draco, the corners of his mouth tugging upward at Draco's desperate rutting. In a swift tug, Draco's boxers were gone, leaving him exposed and erect, perfectly on display for Harry to see. Harry tore his lips from Draco's to look him up and down, eyeing him hungrily. His lips did not return to Draco's however, making a steady trail down his abdomen and to where he wanted it most. Draco's eyes followed Harry with need as he inched down Draco's chest, leaving wet, impatient kisses along the way. Draco arched off the mattress into Harry's mouth as he went. Draco's breath hitched and he stilled as he glanced down to Harry, dangerously close to his erect cock, looking up at Draco with playful eyes. 

Harry pressed a slow, dirty kiss to the underside of Draco's cock, making his whole body surge with desire. He tossed his head back at the feeling of finally receiving what he wanted, biting his lip in attempt to keep sounds from escaping. This failed however, a moan falling from Draco's lips, his eyes clenched shut. Draco had to consciously refrain from bucking his hips forward. 

Harry muttered a quick spell against the inside of Draco's thigh, warm breath feeling like absolute torture against Draco's skin. Harry's fingers were now slick, searching for Draco's entrance. 

Before he prodded any, though, he stopped, resting his head quite adorably against Draco's thigh to look up at him. Draco, who's eyes were still clenched shut, opened them upon noticing the pause. He looked down between his legs to see Harry looking at him, all lust in his expression temporarily put on hold. 

"Potter, what on Earth are you.." Draco's voice trailed off, all frustration fading. 

"This is okay, right?" Harry lightly pressed a lubricated finger against Draco's entrance in question. Draco's face heated up, turning his cheeks and ears a shade redder than they already were. Harry's sudden tenderness sent a wave of softness through Draco. He suddenly realized all the tension he held in his body; something about Harry's pure green gaze made it easier to find relaxation in the moment. Draco, thoughtfully, nodded. Harry began to return to what he was doing, inching his finger a centimeter deeper in Draco before Draco was sat up urgently, a hand on Harry's shoulder. His expression was worried. 

"Just, Potter," his eyes softened even more, "Harry."

Harry's eyes met his, waiting. 

"Please be careful."

Harry placed a gentle kiss to the inside of Draco's thigh; it was a promise. 

Draco fell back onto the mattress, relaxation not coming so easy to him anymore as he felt Harry's finger fumble at his entrance. 

"Hey."

Draco snapped his attention to Harry. 

"What?" Draco spat defensively. 

"Calm down, Draco. It's okay. I'll be gentle, I promise."

Draco released a breath he didn't know he was holding, finding a particularly interesting part of the ceiling to stare at. 

Harry slipped a well lubricated finger into Draco, one centimeter at a time. He was patient, despite his arousal, and Draco really appreciated it. On any other occasion, Draco would probably find himself rushing Harry along, accusing him of going far too slow, but something about tonight being their final night made Draco okay with the impossible pace. It made it seem like time had stopped. Draco wished that was the case, especially with Harry being so affectionate with him; he didn't know what was coming. 

When he added a second finger, it began to feel like an intrusion. Harry's fingers inside him felt foreign and strange, even as they stretched and scissored Draco to comfort. By the time he added a third, Harry had Draco arching off the bed again, curling his digits inside of Draco's warmth, making him mewl. 

"Harry, I-" Draco's thought was severed by Harry's curling fingers, interrupting his words with a low, tender groan. "Harry, fuck." 

Harry removed his fingers, leaving Draco feeling empty. Draco zoned out, not catching Harry's removal of boxers. What he did catch though, was Harry's second mutter of a lubrication spell, Harry spreading slickness over his cock. He made a real show of lathering himself up for Draco; seeing Harry's cock stood to attention and slicked up just for him made Draco's mouth water. 

Harry lined himself up with Draco, pressing the head of his erection slightly into Draco's entrance. Harry inched his way in, not exactly painful, but definitely foreign. He bottomed out, impossibly tight inside of Draco's warmth. Harry's cock throbbed helplessly in Draco's heat. He was tight enough to make Harry want to cry; it was a sensation like no other. Harry used ever fiber of self control he had not to move until he received confirmation from Draco that he had adjusted. Draco laid, eyes shut and cheeks flaming. He held tightly to Harry's bicep as he grew familiar with the feeling of being so full, filled to the brim with everything that was so undeniably Harry. Draco found his muscles easing, adjusting to Harry's length within him. 

Draco's arm slid up from Harry's bicep to his cheek, and he opened his eyes to meet Harry's. Harry held a tender expression, looking down at Draco as if he was the most delicate thing in the world, and everything about it made Draco's heart feel like it was going to burst from his chest. 

Draco couldn't deny look on Harry's face, gently guiding him down for a sweet kiss. As they parted, their lips rested close for a moment, Draco nodding softly. 

"I'm yours, Harry." 

It sounded like a promise much deeper and much more extensive than just for tonight. He regretted it immediately as he'd said it. 

Harry gave his first thrust, a groan low and hearty in his throat. Draco's legs found comfort wrapped around Harry's hips, his arms lazily thrown around Harry's shoulders. 

Harry thrust again, this time earning a moan from Draco. This inspired Harry to pick up the pace, developing a steady rhythm as he slipped in and out of Draco in a passionate haze. 

Draco was not quiet, Harry had noticed. His moans grew in frequency, pitch, and length, his fingers beginning to press needily into Harry's skin. Draco began meeting Harry's thrusts roughly, urging him deeper and harder with the rough slap of skin against skin. Draco's words, the ones that were coherent, anyway, were explicit, jumbled, and desperate. Harry's name was on the tip of his tongue as his prostate was found, Harry taking note of the angle. He gained momentum in his thrusts, fucking harder and deeper into Draco, abusing his prostate with each entrance. Draco was positively seeing stars, leaving angry scratches on Harry's back as their bodies moved together. 

"Fuck!" Draco breathed, leaning his head back. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Harry! Merlin, Harry, don't stop," Draco babbled, desperately beginning to clutch at Harry's hair. 

Harry groaned, looking at the possessive bruises forming on Draco's neck as he leaned his head back. 

"Harry, Harry! Please, I'm going to-" Draco's thought vanished, interrupted by a loud mewl as he arched his back off the mattress and up to Harry. Harry knew what it meant, it was a warning, and he knew exactly how to bring Draco to the edge. 

As Draco arched into him, Harry laid a rough hand on Draco's hip, leaning down to latch against his neck again, somehow noting where all of Draco's sensitive spots were. It sent Draco over the edge, just as he intended it to. 

Draco came with a foul string of language, littered with Harry's name. Harry carried Draco through his orgasm, the tight clench of Draco's muscles around his weeping cock sending Harry over the edge as well. He was far less vocal than Draco, coming with a breath of Draco's name and a long groan, slowing his rhythm until each of them had fallen from their high. Harry collapsed onto Draco, murmuring a quick spell to clean them. They both panted, fatigue taking over. 

"Draco, that was, you were.." Harry breathed dreamily, hardly able to formulate a thought. "You were amazing." 

Draco smiled, turning their tender embrace into a kiss. They lied there in comfortable silence for a while before Draco realized that he was letting this go on far too long. He had to end it now. The night was over, and it was time for him to get dressed and close the curtain on this whole thing. But there Harry was, holding Draco with impossible warmth and making Draco feel so many things at once. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. 

Conflicted, Draco laid in Harry's arms. What was he going to do? He didn't want to give all of this up. 

"Draco," Harry whispered, his voice hanging heavy with drowsiness. 

"Draco, I love you."

Fuck. 

Draco's chest swarmed with an infestation of butterflies, his heart so loud he could hear it in his ears. Every fiber of his being wanted to say it back, to kiss Harry, to fall asleep like this in his arms, knowing that he was safe and loved. But he couldn't. He had duties to follow. All the spite he had felt for his family fell from his heart, replaced with regret. Regret, he discovered, was much heavier to carry. 

He rose from the bed, gathering his clothes and hastily tugging them back on. 

Harry gazed at him, half asleep and half confused. 

"Draco? What are you doing?"

"I'd better go." Draco struggled to keep his voice from breaking with sadness. 

"Draco, what-"

"I said, Potter, I have to go. I don't have time to be waiting around with you all night. I told you, I'm quite busy." Draco's voice trembled with his awful excuses, his throat feeling tight. He spoke slow and deliberate, refusing to meet Harry's gaze and refusing to let his heartbreak make an appearance in his tone. He leaned down to Harry, squeezing his eyes shut, and placed a firm kiss to Harry's drowsy lips. 

Draco spun on his heels. He didn't even make it out of the Room of Requirement before his tears began to fall.


	15. Why Won't You Answer Me?

It had been a few days since Harry and Draco had sex. 

Friday had overturned into Monday with not one word from Draco, and Harry worried that maybe the "I love you" had been far too soon and that he'd freaked Draco out. They'd never exchanged those types of affections, and although it might have been better unspoken for the time being, Harry had been caught up in the moment, you see, and now he couldn't stop feeling bad at the idea that he'd made Malfoy feel awkward. Which, judging by how he acted all weekend and now into the dawning week, he definitely was feeling awkward about it. 

Harry had started to feel Draco's cold shoulder the minute he had walked out of the Room of a Requirement on Friday night. He had rushed to tug on his clothes, making sure they were pressed neatly before kissing Harry a final time and scurrying out of the room. Insisting he needed to leave was one thing, but knowing Malfoy, there was an ulterior motive fueling his hasty exit, and Harry could only think of one thing it could be. Hopefully Draco would get around to forgiving him and getting over it soon; Harry was getting a bit sick of the whole hot and cold act. Couldn't things just be normal already?

Saturday morning had given Harry an extra spring in his step, the afterglow still hanging heavy on his shoulders. It was almost scary, if you'd asked Ron, how Harry so eagerly jumped out of bed that morning. He was ready before most of the Gryffindor boys, spending his down time cheery and working on homework in the common room when he was usually out the door last minute, tugging a shoe on as he rushed. Seamus had cocked an eyebrow and made a clever remark about how Harry must've gotten laid, and when he didn't deny it, the Gryffindors understood. So they let Harry bask in his afterglow and went on about their business, making an occasional joke at Harry's expense. 

Time for breakfast rolled around, Gryffindors pouring out of the common room and dispersing into the halls. Harry had happily sprung from his position of doing homework at the mention of breakfast, finding his own place in the impossible herd. Other houses mixed into the halls as well, intermingling with friends and giving morning greetings. Harry, however, had one person in mind. He could see Ron and Hermione, walking side by side with the current, a bit ahead of himself, but he figured he could catch up with them later. A certain head of neat, bleach blonde hair was all that stood out to Harry among the crowd. Harry called his name a time or two to no avail; the volume of the hall was too high for Harry's calls to be audible to Draco. Harry picked up his pace, turning his walk into a small jog, catching up to him. 

"Morning."

Harry bumped shoulders with Draco affectionately, who became visibly tense and rewarded Harry with not one shred of his attention. He clenched his jaw, continuing to walk forward. Harry assumed maybe his greeting had been swallowed by the noise of the crowd. 

"Good morning," Harry repeated. Draco's reaction stayed the same; faced forward and looking uncomfortable. Maybe it was too soon?

"How are you, Draco?" Harry made a smooth grab for Draco's hand, who finally turned to meet Harry's gaze with a sharp expression. His eyes were cold; his eyes were never cold when he talked to Harry. He wriggled away from Harry's hand, tugging his hand back to his body and clenching it to keep it safe from Harry's grasp. Without a word, Draco sped forward, catching up to Pansy and Blaise, leaving Harry in the dust. Although he figured Draco was just still in shock, it still left Harry with an empty feeling in his stomach and a sour taste in his mouth. He really needed to eat something. 

\---

Harry had not attempted to catch Draco's attention for the rest of the weekend. Come Monday, Harry was back at it, giving Draco longing stares and trying to think of clever notes to pass him just so that maybe, just maybe, Draco would turn his way. Draco had apologized for his distance that night, insisted it was only because he had been busy, but now that they had seemingly made up, Draco had gone right back to his old ways. Everything between them still stood, but something about it felt a lot more complicated than those nights where they would meet in the astronomy tower just to enjoy each other's company. They were growing older and things were becoming more complicated now, especially with their previous intimacy. Harry began to worry that as they grew older, they were growing apart. But this idea brought a weight onto his shoulders that he did not have the time to pay attention to, especially with Voldemort's rise to power once again. He was out for Harry, Harry knew it, and he didn't have the time to be thinking about short lived love affairs or labels or Draco's cold shoulder, as much as he wanted to. He'd thought about it a lot over the weekend anyway; Harry hoped that Draco was really just busy as he'd said, or maybe that he was still in shock. Although he hoped for the best, he had to prepare for the worst, especially as it began to feel as if Draco was just flat out avoiding him. 

Harry had messily scribbled some nonsense onto a piece of paper, nothing of value or interest, only something close to a greeting in attempt to snag Draco's attention. He folded it messily as he usually did, tapping on his Hufflepuff neighbor to send it off. The Hufflepuff girl, who he had still neglected to ask the name of, passed the note to the seat in front of her, and the note continued upward until it reached Draco's desk at the front. The student nearest Draco tapped him on the shoulder, tearing him from his note taking. Draco whipped around sharply as if it had bothered him, but his face was gentle, sad, almost. When he turned around, Harry snapped back to his work. He was trying to be subtle here, clearly. 

Draco eyed the note being presented to him, averting his gaze to Harry, whose nose was in his book work. A frown weighed down the corners of Draco's lips. He smiled politely at the student trying to pass the note, shook his head, and turned to return to his work. The note was passed back down the line to the Hufflepuff next to Harry, who passed it to him. She looked almost sad for him. 

As the note was tossed onto his desk, messily folded as it was before, Harry's heart swarmed at the idea that he had gotten a response. He excitedly grabbed at the piece of paper, pulling it open to see what was inside for him. Nothing. 

His stomach dropped, flipping over the piece of paper in his hands. Maybe there was something he wasn't seeing. He squinted at it, inspecting it further. The Hufflepuff put a hand on his arm gently, looking at him with a soft gaze. 

"He didn't read it, Harry," she whispered to him softly, removing her hand. "I'm sorry."

"He," Harry paused, running a hand through his mop of hair. "He didn't?"

"No. He wouldn't even take it." Something about the Hufflepuff's tone was all knowing, and it made Harry's face heat up. 

Harry's heart was heavy. He sighed, tucking the small shred of paper away. There was a large collection of paper scraps beginning to grow in the pocket of his bag by now, which he met with a frown. Returning to his work, he found he couldn't quite focus anymore. Tossing the idea around in his head didn't help him to figure anything out, but it sure helped to make him feel empty. As much as he hated to admit it, he came to the conclusion that Draco was indeed ignoring him. Why though, that was a mystery. 

He turned back to the Hufflepuff next to him. 

"What was your name again?"

She smiled at him, a polite smile, her eyes gentle with pity. 

"Anne."

"Right. Thanks."

\---

Harry really had to shake this. If Draco had just turned his back so easily, especially after that night in the Room of Requirement, then so should Harry. He had much bigger things to worry about than this, and he couldn't have some boy, gorgeous as he was, clouding his vision from what was really important. And tonight, the subject of importance was the quidditch game. 

Harry had seemingly slipped Ron a vial of liquid luck that morning, much to Hermione's dismay. She had been happy to hear later that he had not actually done it, but made Ron believe he had. The self confidence went a long way, too, Ron being the absolute star of the game that night. Gryffindor's win was really thanks to his defense, and he was the man of the hour at the after party as the Gryffindors cheered, music blaring and decorations of red and gold. He smiled a big, goofy, lopsided grin, everyone attacking him with pats on the back, bear hugs and praise. Lavender, however, had other plans for celebrating that night, attacking Ron's lips in a ferocious snog for the world to see. 

Hermione, upon seeing this, had stumbled out into the hall, collapsing onto the ground; she was visibly upset. She skunked against a wall, knees drawn to her chest and tears in her eyes. As if to occupy herself, she conjured a group of canaries; she had been working on it lately. They chirped happily, flying every which way around her. Harry, who was close behind her, found her sat there. 

"I was just practicing." Hermione smiled, trying to conceal the hurt that was so clearly plastered on her face.   
"Well," Harry started, sinking down to sit by Hermione's side. "It's rather good."

She leaned into his warmth the minute he slid down next to her, letting the tears fall. He let her cry. 

Moments passed, Hermione's cries echoing into the hall. Her crying resolved some, leaving only sniffles behind. She sat up on her own again, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves and giving a small chuckle. She sniffled again, looking at Harry sadly.

"How does it feel, Harry? When Draco won't even look your way?"

The question took Harry by surprise. 

"Oh, um-"

"I know, Harry. I see the way you look at him. You're my best friend."

"Um, well-"

"And I know it isn't exactly the same situation," Hermione continued to babble, her voice wavering and her eyes welling up with fresh tears as she spoke. "But I know it hurts you. I know how it must make you feel for him to not even look at you anymore."

Harry's jaw clenched. 

"That was harsh," she shook her head. "I'm sorry." Tears began to fall down her face again. 

Just as fresh tears began to cascade down her face for the second time, Ron stumbled out of the party, that same goofy grin on his face. Lavender was giggling obnoxiously, hanging on Ron's arm to trail behind him wherever he went. As they fell into the hall together, they stopped, seeing Hermione leaned on Harry. Ron's face fell. 

"Oops!!" Lavender chuckled, tugging at Ron's arm. "Look's like this room is taken!"

She made a move to leave, yanking him in a new direction. He shook free of her arm, looking at Harry and Hermione. 

"What's going on? What's with the birds?"

Hermione stood, a hurt look on her face. It was sad, clearly, but her eyes twinkled with vengeance. 

Strong and clear, she said a jinx. 

"Oppungo."

The canaries she had conjured flew at Ron with aggression, ramming themselves into destruction against a wall behind him. He made a last minute dodge, jumping to the side, unharmed. Ron's face twisted at Hermione as if she was absolutely mad before stumbling off into a new direction, following Lavender. 

Hermione sunk back down into Harry, hiding her face in his shoulder to muffle her choked sobs.

Harry, as much as he hated himself for it, was tossing the idea of Draco around in his head again. They had sex, did that not mean anything to Draco? Harry had shared the highest form of intimacy with him, and vice versa, and Draco had just walked out of the room as if it was nothing but a pointless shag. Harry knew better, though, knew that's not how Draco saw it, especially when he had initiated it. He knew that Draco meant it when he slept with him, he had to. Harry knew that all those nights Draco had looked at him in the astronomy tower, starlight in his eyes and moonlight in his hair, he knew that when Draco looked at him, when Draco kissed him, held his hand, shagged him, he knew that Draco had meant it. So now, all of a sudden, something has changed. It mattered then. It meant something. So why not now? 

Harry's attention returned to Hermione, who was still crying into his shoulder. He began to feel like doing the exact same thing. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair. 

"It feels like this."


	16. Bleeding Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had meant it when he told Draco he loved him that night. But had he meant this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance.

Harry would've never guessed that Draco was the one to curse Katie Bell. When Hermione had suggested the idea, Harry thought she might be mad, really. He had seen Katie soar into the sky, falling back down much harder than the winter flurries. She had been carrying a package, according to her friend. Katie had emerged from the bathrooms earlier with the package, insisting she must deliver it; it was very important. There was something fishy about it, that much was clear, Hagrid insisting that no one lay a finger on it. 

Harry had done little to no investigation on the idea, especially due to the fact that Hermione's suspicion of Draco scared him. Was there something he wasn't seeing?

Even if they had intended to ask Katie who had cursed her, she was rushed to the infirmary right away, not a word from her for days. When the package was inspected by professors, Snape came to the conclusion that the necklace inside was indeed cursed, and even worse: on its way to Dumbledore. The idea seemed so unlike Draco to Harry, and he couldn't bear to think of the possibilities, unlikely as they were.

Draco's absense from Harry's day to day life had him wondering lately who Draco was becoming, of course, but he didn't think he could become something like this. Harry was thinking too much.

\---

The day Katie Bell was released from the infirmary, she was swarmed with questions, courtesy of all her friends. Most of them were polite check ups and "how are you feeling"s, and Harry was no exception to this. But he had a much more important question to ask her.

"Harry," Hermione leaned toward him, taking a break from her breakfast. "It's Katie."

Harry whipped his head around with no subtlety at all, shooting out of his seat. He strode toward her with an urgency to find out the truth, to finally put his mind at ease. It couldn't have been Draco; Hermione had to be wrong. She had to be.

"Katie," Harry started, out of breath from the hasty stride. "Katie what-"

She turned to face him, looking at him with sadness.

"I know what you're going to ask, Harry," Katie sadly looked to the ground, and back to Harry. "But, I don't know who cursed me."

Harry pressed his lips together; his stomach sank. Katie looked behind him, furrowing her eyebrows and staring. Harry whipped around to see where her focus was, his eyes landing on Draco, who was already staring at him. His eyes gave him away, making him look guilty as ever. 

It was then that Harry knew Hermione was right.

Almost as quickly as Harry had met Draco's gaze, Draco was averting his attention to anything he could find, looking around the room for some sort of salvation. He turned on his heels, stumbling over himself to escape. He was tugging at his tie on his way out, looking distressed and upset.

Harry followed Draco, shoving through crowds of students in the hallways, not letting Draco out of his sight. Draco walked as fast as he could without running, weaving smoothly through the halls in search of somewhere to duck away to. When he decided he was far enough away from Harry, he decided on a bathroom, rushing to the sink to pant. 

Disheveled and distressed, Draco gripped at the sides of the sink, letting the tears fall. He looked at himself in the mirror, disgusted. It was not long, though, before he saw Harry's reflection alongside his.

"I know what you did, Draco."

Draco absentmindedly fired a weak spell at the boy behind him. 

"Why?" 

Draco's fingers tightened around the sides of the sink, his sobs becoming audible, echoing through the bathroom. 

Harry cautiously took a step forward. 

"Why won't you speak to me? You haven't talked to me since we.. Since that.. You know."

Draco clenched his eyes harder, firing another small spell. 

"Draco, why?"

This was enough to send Draco over the edge. He was tired of all the prodding, all the questions from Harry. Draco was in too sticky of a situation from the beginning to ever be with Harry, and he knew that. He couldn't expect Harry to understand his situation, and while Harry's family was certainly abusive, they weren't manipulative as Draco's father was; they didn't care enough to expect anything from Harry. Draco supposed it had to be easier to be sixteen years old, a war calling your name, a war which you'd fight on the good side. A war which you'd be the hero. A martyr, maybe, but a hero. The war had been calling for Draco since the age of eleven; the bad side had been calling: a side he knew he didn't want or need and was never going to be capable of following. He had to, though, or else his family name would tarnish, and his father would never speak to him again. That is, if he and his family even made it out alive. He couldn't expect Harry to ever understand. He whipped around to look at Harry, anger and frustration swarming up inside him all at once, and fired a more powerful hex with a strangled grunt. Harry dodged it, firing something weak in defense. 

"Draco, please, talk to me!"

Harry was just as frustrated now, going months and months without even so much as a glance from Draco, and he hadn't even done anything. As far as Harry knew, nothing between them had gone wrong. 

Draco fired something else at Harry, ducking away into a stall. 

"You would never understand, Potter."

Potter. 

Harry could not recall the last time that Draco had called him "Potter."

There were words though, words he hadn't heard in far too long. Draco's voice trembled as he said them, dripping with hurt. Draco wanted Harry to understand. Harry wanted to understand. 

Harry gently pressed into the stall, which Draco had not locked, as if leaving an open invitation to him. As he came in though, Draco fired something nasty, something sincere in Harry's direction, making him jolt backward to dodge it. Draco burst from the stall, darting to hide somewhere else. 

"Potter, please, just.. Merlin! Leave me alone! Sod off, would you? You're not going to get it, you prick! So just go! I'm trying to fix things here; you're not making it easy. Just go, and don't look back for me!"

Hearing Draco sound more and more desperate with each passing word swirled a spiral of questions within him, but the moment he stepped in Draco's direction to ask them, he was fired at again. 

Harry had enough. 

Everything suddenly crescendoed inside of him. Harry remembered all the times he had helped Draco, saved Draco, even. All the times he was there to catch Draco when he fell, and the time when Harry needed Draco most, Draco was elsewhere doing things he insisted Harry wouldn't understand, which, even if that was true, the least Draco could do is try to make Harry understand. Draco would never understand the pressure Harry was under either, but that never stopped Harry from telling Draco all about it, and it certainly never stopped Draco from being there for Harry. Harry wanted to do the same. He had given his all to Draco, quite literally, and had received not one word since that night, the night where he told him he loved him. Was it too soon to say? Maybe so. But Harry's words proved true, and even if Draco did not return the feeling just yet, it was hardly cause for Draco to give him the cold shoulder for so long. Harry craved to see Draco smile at him again, to look him in the eyes, to use his first name, even. But the actions that were once regular began to look like a luxury, and Harry did not know why. Draco would not let him know; he wouldn't let him try to understand. Everything swelled within Harry at once, every question, concern, and every bit of anger, frustration, sadness and hurt all came together at once. Before he knew what he was doing, his mind flashed to his potions book. 

"Sectumsempra!"

Draco flew away from Harry's view after he had been hit. Silence. 

Harry's belly filled with regret as he took small, cautious steps forward, looking for where Draco had landed. The sight before him made him feel sick. 

Draco was on the bathroom floor, water from the busted sink swirling around him, mixing with his blood. Red oozed from Draco's body, seeping through his button down shirt and making very clean slashes apparent. He very chest Harry had kissed so tenderly was now covered in slashes, and to know he was responsible made his eyes swell with tears. It had said "for enemies" in the potions book, but Draco was no enemy, that's for sure. 

"Draco, I'm-"

Harry was cut off by Snape standing in the doorway, glaring coldly at him. His robes flew almost magically behind him in all the water, and he knelt down to Malfoy with urgency, whipping out his wand. 

"Get out of here."

Harry stood, dumbfounded and guilty, his mouth agape. He couldn't move. 

"I said," Snape began calmly, "Get. Out."

Harry stumbled over himself, rushing out of the bathroom. He heard Snape chanting a song like mantra over and over, hovering over Draco's body. Harry didn't want to know the damage he'd done, absolutely not. 

He had meant it when he told Draco he loved him that night. What a way to show it, right? Almost killing him? Great. 

So many questions unanswered piled within him, guilt weighing heavy on his broken heart.


	17. Everything's Made to Be Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco had been assigned to kill Dumbledore.

Draco knew what he had to do. 

His plan had followed through with Potter, too, which was helpful. Although it hurt him to see Harry walk away from him, to distance himself, it did take the burden off of Draco. After the incident in the bathroom, Harry had kept his distance, staring much less and staying in his place. It seemed he was finally getting the message that Draco didn't want him around, or at least, he was believing Malfoy's façade, which was good enough for Draco; he didn't have to work so hard to keep Harry away. He didn't have to work as hard to numb the feelings when Potter's sharp green eyes weren't staring every second of the day. That's all he was needing, really. 

Snape had healed him up and rushed him to the hospital wing immediately. He spent a few days there, and added a few extra of his own to the mix, hanging in the bed of his dorm room a few days more to ensure Potter felt sincerely guilty. Sure, Draco was being sort of a dick, in good reason, of course, but Harry had taken it a step too far, and Draco wanted to make certain that Harry recognized it. Although, it gave him plenty of time to ponder his own actions too, running his plan over and over in his head. Two extra days in bed was enough to slingshot his remaining sanity into the stratosphere, prompting him to return to class, torso still wrapped in bandage, delicate skin scarring underneath. The return to normalcy struck Draco to the core, attending class becoming harder and harder each day as he was beginning to focus more on the task at hand. He couldn't shake it, either, especially as the day grew closer. Voldemort had threatened him and his family had he failed to perform the mission, and before he knew it, the day had arrived. 

Draco Malfoy had been assigned to kill Dumbledore.

His stomach had twisted and knotted every single time the thought crossed his mind, since the moment Voldemort had even whispered the idea. It all made him sick really, but he knew what he had to do. His family was at stake, and he couldn't bear to risk their lives for his own feelings, his own cowardice. He wasn't going to be conquered by his dumb feelings for Harry Potter, no matter how strong they may be. 

His footsteps up to the astronomy tower echoed so loudly it felt as if his eardrums could burst. He heard the faint conversations from the group behind him, Death Eaters. He'd let them in through the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement, working months to mend it, to make it safe for them to pass through. When he'd done it, they'd all seemed so proud of him, so proud of his success, so proud of him pursuing dark objectives. On the other hand, Draco could not have felt more sick with himself. He had to remember though: his family. His family was all that mattered. His family was all that could matter. Why should it matter what he wants? 

He reached the tower, finding Dumbledore exactly where he wanted him. His stomach twisted again, a knot tighter than ever. Could he really do this?

"Good evening, Draco."

Dumbledore's innocent greeting was enough to make tears swell hopelessly  in Draco's eyes. Harry watched from a distant corner, covered cautiously in his invisibility cloak. The look on Draco's face gave Harry chills, seeing him so pained. No matter how much of a dick Draco had been, Harry wanted to understand, wanted to help. 

"Expelliarmus!"

Dumbledore's wand flew from his hand, leaving him helpless. Draco raised his wand, pointing it shakily in Dumbledore's direction. Every muscle in his body urged him to run, to run away, as far as he possibly could. They urged him to run, to hide, to never show his face again. He wouldn't have to deal with this, with the disappointment of his father, the burden of his family name. He wouldn't have to deal with Voldemort's threats. He wouldn't have to deal with his feelings for Harry. All he would have to deal with is the swirling of his own thoughts and the best of his own heart, and maybe the steady sound would grant him some sort of relief, a release, per chance. Day by day, he grew tired of being Draco Malfoy, and it seemed as if every passing second made him genuinely wish he was someone else.  

"Draco, you are no assassin."

Dumbledore's words sent shivers running marathons down Draco's spine, his words striking Draco's core. He knew that Dumbledore was right. He certainly was no assassin, just a scared boy without a choice. He was staring evil in the face and he was stuck, staring, and could not turn away in fear that his father, or worse, Voldemort, would make him regret every thought against the cause. 

"How would you know?" Draco's bottom lip trembled, threatening to let the tears fall. He could not show weakness, not now. The next phrase was met with a voice crack. "I've done things that would shock you."

"Please, Draco. Attempting to make Katie deliver a cursed necklace to me? Replacing a perfectly good bottle of champagne with one laced with poison? Draco, your attempts to kill me have been so feeble, they lead me to believe your heart wasn't truly in them. Please, let me help you; I can protect you, and your mother-"

All of Dumbledore's words were far too much. Draco didn't even let him finish. 

"No! You don't understand! I was chosen!"

Draco's hand grasped his wand tighter, shaking. He rolled up a sleeve, revealing his wrist, which was invaded by a large, ugly dark mark on his porcelain skin. His tears threatened to spill as he stared down at it. 

"Draco," Dumbledore's voice was soft, merciful. "I once met a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

"No! I told you! You don't understand! I have to do this. I have to kill you." Draco's realization hit him, solidified, became the most real the moment the words left his lips. He had been assigned to kill Dumbledore. They had marked him, claimed him for their group. There was no turning back now, he'd said it. 

"Or he's gonna kill me." 

Draco's body finally shook with sobs. Each echoed cry sent a pain through Harry, but even so, seeing Draco with his wand pointed at Dumbledore, he lost all sense of mercy. He pointed his wand toward Draco, ready to disarm him, when he heard the rest of the Death Eaters parade happily up the stairs, into the tower. They all shouted encouragements to Draco, especially Bellatrix, and urged him to just get on with it already. Draco was visibly shaken by this, trembling in his stance. 

"He can't do it. He's a coward, just like his father."

This earned a glare from Draco. He refused to hear the nonsense; he was nothing like his father. Before he could think on it much, he was receiving much more encouragement from Bellatrix on his side. She yelled his name viciously, urging him to do it. Just do it already. 

Draco closed his eyes, taking a deep, cautious inhale, preparing himself. Harry stepped forward, ready to disarm Draco from the shadows. 

"Avada Kedavra!"

A blast hit Dumbledore, sending him flying over the ledge of the astronomy tower. The same ledge that Harry and Draco had once overlooked together, basking in moonlight and happy glow, exchanging kisses, secrets, and all between. But this was something that Draco had always failed to tell him. Something Draco had promised against, even. 

But the foul words had not left Draco's lips. Harry knew them far too well; it was not Draco's voice to utter the ugly curse. 

It was Snape. His wand pointed firmly at the place where Dumbledore was previously standing, Snape stood tall, unmoving, his dark robes sweeping the floor eerily in the moonlight. The Death Eaters wept in delight, all prancing around the astronomy tower and making their way back down the stairs. Snape roughly pulled Draco from his shocked state, standing frozen and looking like he could not believe what had happened. If his tears weren't falling before, they sure were now, as he followed the group cheering in delight, looking awfully out of place. Snape matched Draco's pace, keeping by his side, looking cold and detached. Harry threw off his cloak, readied his wand, and followed. He chased them until they were outside, chasing them through the grass and to Hagrid's shack. They had a head start, but as soon as Harry had collected and processed the event before him, he had bolted, storming toward their cheers as fast as his feet would carry him, wand at the ready. When he found them, he saw Draco. 

How could he? How could he willingly break his promises to Harry and join them? Not only did he join them, he was ready to kill Dumbledore, just like that. Draco was ready to kill Dumbledore right there, headmaster of Hogwarts, and Harry had to sit there and watch. He had to sit quietly in the shadows and watch his beloved mentor die with the swish and flick of a wand. And although it had not been Draco that had done it, and although Draco had not seemed all that willing to complete the act, Harry was seeing red, feeling a stab in the back with every breath he took and every step Draco ran. Ran from what? Him? Has that what he'd been doing?

"Draco!"

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, Snape doing the same. He whipped his head around to look at Harry, face red and puffy with tears, blonde hair tousled by wind. The look he gave Harry would've broken his heart, had Draco not already just broken it. 

Harry dug for the words to say. 

"I trusted you!"

Draco stood there a moment, opening his mouth as if to say something. It was as if he was planning to explain, apologize, anything. 

"Well! Let's hear it, then, Draco! What is it? Care to explain yourself?!"

Draco's mouth hung wide open, staring at Harry sadly. He shook his head, fresh tears falling. Snape inhaled deeply, turning Draco back around with a hand on his shoulder, leading him forward in a walk. 

"Draco! Say something! Anything!"

Harry ran, trudging to them. He was panting. 

"You promised me! You promised me you wouldn't be one of them, Draco, what happened? Draco, please!"

Draco and Snape's walking sped up, Snape tugging roughy on the fabric of Draco's robes. Harry's voice grew raw and tired from screaming after them. 

"Draco, I trusted you!"


	18. Burnout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way Draco wrapped his arms so fiercely around Harry proved that he was either really happy to see him, or really happy to have avoided death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is based loosely around the movie version. Sorry for the long wait; life has me busy. xoxo

Dumbledore was dead. 

The thought alone was enough to make Harry nauseous. 

Sixth year had ended abruptly, sour and ill fitting in Harry's mouth. He was hurting, still feeling the throbbing of the stab wound in his back, and while he normally would be primarily focused on the task at hand, the betrayal was hard to shake. It hung on Harry's conscious like dull clouds over a humid spring day. Although it made him a bit less hurt to know Draco had not actually gone through with the task, he had still broken his promise to Harry, his sacred promise to never become like one of them. Even though it was clearly reluctant, Draco had done it anyway. And Harry was not quite ready to listen to any explanation Draco was willing to give him. Not that it ever came, anyway. 

Draco spent the remainder of sixth year alongside Professor Snape, who, unknown to Harry, was consoling a deeply torn Draco through his decisions. It was almost as if Snape saw Draco's feelings and felt a twinge of sympathy, taking Draco under his wing and advising him what direction was best to follow. He had become Draco's mentor in a way that Dumbledore was to Harry; that thought was enough to bring a whole new sour taste to Harry's mouth. 

 

The summer had come, giving Harry and his friends plenty of time to look for more horcruxes. It was soon time for another year to begin, and when it was time for Harry, Ron and Hermione to return, Hogwarts had figuratively fallen to shambles. The time was inching closer for Voldemort's threats to become actual actions, and Harry wanted no more to die at his expense, although Voldemort's merciless hand was surely capable of whatever he pleased. 

"They've got us practicing the cruciatus curse," Neville had told them, "on first years!" 

The look on the students' face when Neville led the trio back to Hogwarts was warm and welcoming, as it always had been. They were greeted with joy, mainly, which was surprising; their large smiles looked so out of place against their tattered clothes and sad eyes. Whispers scattered of the trio's progress, some angry, some proud, and many hopeful. The next few hours held a chase for one of the last few horcruxes. Harry would admit that while he looked around for whatever was meant to do with Ravenclaw, he caught himself searching equally as much for Draco. Luna had told him to speak with the Grey Lady, who had given him an obvious riddle leading him to the Room of Requirement. 

At the same time that he found himself in the room, Draco, Blaise and Goyle stumbled in, their wands drawn. Had they been following him? It was unlike the three of them to just casually hang out in the Room of Requirement, especially as the chaos built outside the security of Hogwarts' walls. Draco's hold on his wand was shaky, similar to the night in the astronomy tower when he was meant to carry out his task. His eyes shifted uncomfortably to anything it could find that wasn't Harry, while his two friends stared at Draco, confused. 

"Draco." 

Draco's eyes snapped to attention, looking at Harry a brief moment before yanking his gaze away again. 

"Potter." 

There was a long moment of silence, Goyle and Blaise becoming visibly annoyed with the slow pace.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Harry took a step forward, his tone accusing and hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Draco's eyes tore from the floor and up to Harry again at this point, his stare blank and scared. He opened his mouth as if he was looking for how to formulate his thoughts, but all he could do was let his jaw hang open at a loss for words. 

"I-" 

"Draco, I could've helped you." 

Draco pressed his lips together tightly, clenching his teeth. 

"You wouldn't have understood," Draco took a step forward, lowering his wand, "Harry-" 

"Why haven't you turned me in yet, huh? Bet you've been giving them information, haven't you?" 

"Harry, no, I-" 

Blaise stared at the pair intently, eyes darting between the two as their argument drew on. Goyle, however, could not have seemed less interested, rolling his eyes and stepping forward, his arm stiff, wand in hand. 

"Draco, come on, you prat, do something. Get on with it!" He shoved Draco's shoulder forcefully, a glare clear on his face. He fired something nasty toward Harry, who dodged it with ease. He heard a yelp from behind him. 

"Hey!" 

Upon turning around, Harry was able to recognize it as Ron. Hermione was following his lead, looking startled. Maybe the curse had flown her way after it passed Harry, which would explain Ron's almost comical humor. 

"That's my girlfriend, you prick!" 

Ron took off in a run after Goyle, Blaise following Goyle's lead. Draco stood there a second more, his eyes locked on Harry, before running after his friends. 

Harry still had a horcrux to find, and the less emotional issues he had to deal with at this present moment, the better. 

His scar was hurting; he knew it was near. The effect was not foreign to him; all the other horcruxes he'd found up until this point had given him a similar sensation. When he found its exact location, he would definitely know. The pain would increase and he would be able to hear him, see him. It was a negative but inevitable experience. Especially with all that was going at the current moment, he needed to hurry up and get on with finding it. They didn't have much time now. 

He gave experimental steps in different directions. Hermione, who had opted out of the wild goose chase, was following his lead, ready to step up and assist Harry in any way he needed. On a particular step to the left, he felt a twinge of pain among the constant throb, making him hopeful. He continued in that direction, the sensation increasing. He scanned the area, his eyes landing on a small box. Stepping toward it with caution, he opened it, a tiara-like object inside. The way his body responded to the presence of the object made him certain he had found what he was looking for. The diadem. 

Almost as soon as he had taken hold of the object, Ron was running back to he and Hermione, everything about him frantic. The way he shoved objects out of his way and hopped over things sparked fear in both Harry and Hermione; Ron wasn't one to act like this.

"Goyle set the bloody place on fire!"

Hermione and Harry were moving now, swiftly retrieving the diadem before making a run for it. 

It was then that a nasty, ferocious beast erupted from the fire, taking shape behind the trio. Had it been a dragon? A snake, maybe? Harry dared not to look, continuing on his mission to escape in one piece. He could hear the frantic movement of Draco, Blaise and Goyle behind he and his friends, and part of him sincerely worried that their pace would not be enough to outrun the fury of whatever Goyle had unleashed. 

The beast was on their heels now, both groups struggling to escape. Soon, Harry could no longer feel the presence of the three Slytherins behind him, only that of Hermione and Ron remained. His stomach sunk at the realization, hoping to Merlin that they had managed a way out or gotten to safety, rather than swallowed by the flames. He had no time to think about it, though, as he heard a shriek from Hermione and a thud from Ron. What had he tripped on?

Harry turned toward the thud, seeing Ron scrambling to his feet. 

"Wait," Harry shouted to them, signaling to the broom Ron had tripped on. The three each grabbed a broom of their own, promptly rising to the air and heading toward the door. 

They flew a minute before Hermione was frantically looking back, calling for Harry. Harry followed her gaze, seeing a sight that made him sick with worry. 

Blaise and Draco had climbed to the top of the furniture in hopes to avoid the fire; Goyle was nowhere to be seen. Harry figured the worst. 

"We have to go back to help them," Harry said in an instant, hastily changing directions and heading toward where Draco and Blaise stood, panicked. 

Ron grimaced, reluctantly following Harry's lead. "If we die for them, Harry, I'm gonna kill you!"

The trio passed Blaise and Draco swiftly, the gust of wind upsetting their balance on the tall mountain of furniture. They both slipped, grip tightening on whatever they could find that would hold them up while they waited for help. Harry, perfect timing, passed them a second time, managing to successfully yank Draco up onto his broom; Hermione managed the same with Blaise. 

The way Draco wrapped his arms so fiercely around Harry proved that he was either really happy to see him, or really happy to have avoided death. Harry figured it was the second, trying to shake the feeling of Draco's arms so willingly holding him as they used to. He surged forward, approaching the door. He couldn't think on it too much; he had other matters to deal with. 

With the diadem in hand, he, Hermione and Ron, not to mention their two passengers, flew through the door and off their brooms with a thud. Blaise, Hermione and Ron all made quick to run to safety, leaving Draco and Harry panting on the ground, adrenaline pulsing through their veins. The flames did not yield however, and their quick movements toward the door prompted Harry to quickly toss the diadem into the angry flames, the doors slamming shut, evil sizzling out with an evil hiss. Whether from the flames or the diadem, he was not sure. 

Draco looked to Harry. Fear and regret and pain was apparent in his eyes, as well as something else entirely; Harry could not seem to read it. 

With a slight, thankful nod, Draco rose, scrambling to run after the others, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts and the sound of Voldemort in his head.


	19. Born to Die

The words had been echoing in his head since he heard them.

"Bring me Harry Potter."

Voldemort was waiting; Harry knew. His fate was inevitable. He had hugged Ron and Hermione goodbye after he realized it, trotting off to the woods with his head held high and a numb feeling taking over his body. The resurrection stone had provided him with some relief, seeing his parents, Sirius and Remus gathered to welcome him, to catch him. They'd guaranteed him that it wouldn't hurt; it'd be quicker than falling asleep. So he trudged on, the familiar whisper slithering about his thoughts as it always had, making them foggier and less coherent with every step he took into the trees.

The first person Harry had seen was Hagrid. He was bound by the Death Eaters, ropes looking to have a rather tight hold on him. As soon as Harry had come into his sight, his face had broken, almost as if all of his remaining hope was gone.

"Harry! What are you doing here?!"

Harry ignored it; he had to. He had to ignore the crack in Hagrid's voice when he spoke, when he realized. He was about to witness Harry's death. And so were the rest of the death eaters. The students would hear about it, they would hear of all their peers and teachers and of their deaths. They would attend funeral after funeral for a mess that Harry himself had been the cause of. If only he'd managed to step forward sooner, all of them might still be alive. There would only be one funeral to attend. At least Harry would die knowing that he died for what was true and right. Voldemort's serpent like smile was sickening.

"The boy who lived has come to die?"

The Death Eaters, many without their masks now, erupted into a fit of high pitched cackles as if Harry's deed was the most hilarious thing they'd ever managed to hear.

"Do your worst."

Harry, without a wand, surrendered. Voldemort stood a moment, face twisted in surprise at the idea that Harry would go so easily.

After a shriek and a burst of green magic, it was Narcissa who had been sent to inspect the corpse. Well, what was thought to be a corpse.

As she leaned to Harry, her heart swelled with fondness and maternity, especially as she noticed the rise and fall of his chest with each steady breath. Harry Potter was alive. There was a chance for him. A chance for her son, her husband. There was a chance for them all. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she made her decision, a plan piecing together in her thoughts. She turned around to face Voldemort and the rest of his supporters, putting on her best stern expression.

"Dead."

It was Hagrid who got to carry him back.

Narcissa grew increasingly nervous as they walked back, afraid of the moment that Harry was once again conscious. She knew he didn't have a wand; would he be awoken defenseless and die anyway, outing her for her lie? Lucius had sensed her tension, assuming it to be coming from the task at hand, and quickly pressed his hand to hers with a light smile. They were on their way to the school, after all. They were coming for their son.

As the Death Eaters began to congregate outside the school, the students and staff mirrored them. While the students looked and showed absolute dread, the Death Eaters looked sickeningly delighted as they carried Harry's corpse; it was as if they considered it a trophy. As the students began to realize what they carried along, their faces contorted in anguish and horror, his close friends even allowing tears to fall. The students were mostly silent, although many let small outbursts and cries erupt. The few that were left alive were left without a hope in the world as they saw their dear hero dead. Faces that would've been familiar to Harry lined the front of the crowd: Luna, Ginny, Neville, Ron, Hermione, expressions solemn or withholding tears.

It was then that Voldemort came forward, smiling sickeningly at the students, ready to announce the news.

"Harry Potter is dead."

Hermione broke out in a small sob, which only made Voldemort's grin grow wider. With a chuckle and a shake of his head, he, spitefully, repeated himself.

"Harry Potter is dead," he spoke slow, stepping forward steadily as the tragic news slipped from his lips, snaking around the students. "Now, you will put your faith in me."

His demand was met with silence. Fear crept up the spine of each and every witch and wizard present, aside from the Death Eaters, who were looking all too smug. Voldemort, as if feeding on the children's fear, turned around with a smile to face his followers. 

"Harry Potter is dead!" He had shouted it this time, his demeanor eerily full of joy that resonated with the Death Eaters, who laughed at the declaration. 

Another few beats of silence passed; the students were unsure what to do. They passed nervous glances between each other, awaiting Voldemort's next words.

"Now, it is time to declare yourselves. Join me. Join us." He motioned to the Death Eaters standing in a mass behind him. Their numbers were frightening, and truthfully, were inching closer to competing even with the numbers on the opposite side. Especially, that is, if more would allow themselves to die.

No one stepped forward to accept Voldemort's invitation. There was tension building in the air, especially for a young, blond boy attempting to hide behind his peers.

"Draco!"

His name was firmly, desperately called from across the courtyard. Draco's head snapped up in attention, searching for the owner of the voice. He knew it to be his father's. Clenching his jaw in defiance, Draco did not move.

His father shouted his name again, a bit louder this time. Lucius' face twisted in fear and desperation. He had, after all, failed the Dark Lord before, just as his son had. Draco was the only chance to redeem the Malfoy family name in the eyes of Voldemort, and Lucius was hell bent on redemption, if not terrified of his inevitable death if his family failed to comply. Seeing his son stand there in defiance frightened him for Draco's life as well as Narcissa's and his own. Lucius motioned with his hand for Draco to come, which he again failed to oblige. Lucius' panic rose, and Voldemort turned to look at him with a surprised and disappointed expression. In a final attempt, he outstretched his arm to his son. Perhaps Draco had strayed too far away.

Narcissa took a step forward, fighting past her fears in hope for her family's safety. She was by Lucius' side now, looking expectantly at Draco. Her tone was far more tender and motherly than Lucius', understandably, and it hardly took two words to make Draco soften.

"Draco," she began, calm as ever. "Come."

Draco gulped, staring at his parents awaiting him. He gulped, accepting their invitation. It was his duty, after all. How stupid he had been to try to defy them.

Reluctantly wading through the crowd of students, Draco hung his dead as he walked across the courtyard. Voldemort cried his name in glee as he came forward, even managing to catch Draco in a hug before he could get to his parents. The hug was awkward and too tight, choking Draco in all the worst ways. Stepping toward his family and blinking back the tears that threatened to spill heartily, he took his mother's hand. Noticing his inner quarrel, she took him into an embrace far more nurturing than the Dark Lord's.

Draco's step forward encouraged a few more, most of them Slytherins who had similar family responsibilities to attend to. One no one expected though, is Neville Longbottom.

Neville limped forward, his leg cut and bloody. His face and clothes were caked with a fair amount of dirt and blood, and he looked rather pathetic stepping forward. 

"Well, I could say I hoped for better." Voldemort's joke caused Neville to raise his head from the ground to look at the Death Eaters sadly as they laughed. "Who might you be?"

"Neville Longbottom." Another fit of laughter. "I have something to say."

"Well, Neville, I'm sure we'd all be fascinated to hear what you have to say."

"It doesn't matter that Harry's dead." Neville raised his head again, his expression solid and sure. The laughing ceased then, all attention now on his incoming words. 

Seamus took a step toward him. "Stand down, Neville!"

"No! I just want to say something." He turned from Seamus to face the Death Eaters. "People die every day. Friends, family.." He trailed off, letting his gaze drop to the ground again. "It doesn't matter that Harry's gone. He's still with us." Neville's gaze rose again, this time to look at his peers. "He's still with us. In here," he smiled as he spoke, placing a light hand on his heart. The others seemed moved by his words, some even managing to give a small grin. Neville, as if a new thought had come to him, started again.

"Harry didn't die in vain." Neville turned to face Voldemort again, his voice rising with anger. "But you will!" Voldemort gave a laugh.

"Harry's heart beat for all of us!" Neville's anger overcame him, only met with more laughter from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. As his anger rose and Seamus took a step forward to pull him back, Harry stirred in Hagrid's arms. 

Surprisingly and quite fortunately enough, he didn't draw attention to himself until he leaped from Hagrid's grasp, very much alive. This was met with gasps from both sides, and Harry took off running, completely unarmed. 

"Potter!" 

Harry, somehow, found time to turn around and face the familiar voice. It was Draco. Harry could not have been more grateful to see him, no matter how ill timed it was. 

Draco tossed Harry a wand. It was Draco's own; Harry could tell the minute it was in his hand. 

His expression was gratitude enough for Draco, and Voldemort threw an icy glare in Draco's direction as he chased after Harry with fatal spells.

Lucius grabbed Draco's arm with a vicious expression on his face. 

"Draco! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Staying in his father's angry grasp for a moment felt like an entire eternity to Draco. Something about Harry's life on the line as well as his own made something entirely foreign rise in his stomach, and he found it within him to break free from his father's grasp and run to follow the crowd of eager students. Whether they were heading to their friends and loved ones inside or to watch the final battle, Draco didn't care, he was following, leaving his family behind. There was fear and anger and love mixed in his stomach all at once and he was far too preoccupied with running to possibly feel any of it. His father's angry grasp on his arm still stung even after he had managed to slip away, and his heart flew quickly with adrenaline. Turning about, he could see himself being chased by his parents, and he decided to worm his way deeper into the pool of his peers.

Before he went though, he had one last thing to say. He couldn't possibly bear to stop running though, so shouting it over his shoulder had to be enough.

"I'm doing what I should've being doing the entire time, Father!"

And so he vanished into Hogwarts' ruins.


	20. Forgive Me, Father

Draco was running. He wasn’t entirely sure where or to whom he was going, but he was running with all the might that he had and he ran and he pushed himself until his legs stung and his chest burned with an unforgiving pain of the unknown.

It had been a minute or two since he’d seen Harry, and he felt it unwise to be chasing after the boy in question and the Dark Lord who he had just betrayed, but he didn’t care. He just felt an insatiable urge to know whether Harry was okay, and the motivation propelled him forward and as far as he could get away from his parents.   
He found himself screaming for Harry. He was screaming his name until his throat was raw and his belly hurt and by the time he’d made it to the Great Hall, his legs couldn’t carry him anymore. Quite frankly, Draco felt particularly sick. He only had a matter of time before his family, his responsibilities, would find him again. Draco was entirely sick of the entire thing, really. He was sick of the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders, he was sick of responsibilities and promises and duties that his father dropped onto him. 

And well, speak of the Devil himself.

He saw his father and his mother digging through the ruins of Hogwarts, his father a frustrated flurry of dark clothes, blond hair, and worried eyes. His mother followed in a scurry, also looking about as sick as Draco felt himself. Looking around frantically, though, Draco saw one more figure coming his way.

And there he was. 

It was Harry. He was bruised, bloody, sweaty and dirty, but it was Harry.

As if like the weight of the world had been lifted, Draco’s stomach jumped and his heart soared and every ounce of pain in his body or his heart was gone and he was up and running toward Harry in an instant, and Draco completely forgot his parents standing there, ready to sweep him away.   
Harry, who was tired and weak, took Draco’s embrace like a blow, even grunting as he received it. But he returned it, nonetheless, and honestly, because of all he’d been through right then, he really did need the hug.

“Harry,” Draco sobbed into Harry’s shoulder, “Harry, I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

When the hug parted, Harry’s eyes were tired and confused. Harry looked about ready to collapse, and Draco’s heart swelled again at the idea that Harry was standing in front of him, broken and tired and an empty shell of who he once was, but he was alive, and would continue to be Harry. The same old Harry.  
Draco felt like it had been ages since he’d been able to even be this close to Harry, and well, it had been. So Draco kissed him.

His parents were there, he knew. But he didn’t think about it. His father would just have to forgive him later, for this meant he was a traitor. Not to Harry, no, but to the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, and his father, for he was bound to them by duty, but bound and loyal to Harry by heart.

Harry kissed him back. 

Hesitantly, yes, but Harry kissed him back. It was slow at first, questioning, but it clarified every last thing Draco wanted to say and apologize for. It was desperate, sure, and passionate, and it was everything Draco had loved and missed. He hoped Harry felt the same.

When they parted, as they had to eventually, (it was growing awkward with Draco’s family standing right there, obviously), Draco could not will himself to look at his parents, for he feared their reactions. He could hear his heart in his ears and he could feel the warmth spreading over his face. The air was thick with everything that his parents wanted to ask, and everything that Draco longed to explain, but he truly couldn’t be bothered to turn his attention away from Harry for an instant. Harry needed him right now, (at least Draco hoped), and there was no time for a dramatic come out scene whenever Harry had been through what he had.

As their kiss ended, another hug began. Harry was using what little strength he had left to hold Draco with the intensity that Draco was holding him. There were tears welling in his eyes, part because of Draco and part because of everything he had been through the past hour. The past day. His entire life. He felt free. His struggles would be ongoing, he knew, but for the time being, he was at peace. And now Draco had come along again and made it nearly impossible not to forgive him.

Draco parted from the hug to look Harry in the eyes, and the glistening of tears paired with the striking green was just enough to make Draco’s heart jump again and his sobs intensify.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me quickly, if you do at all, that is,” He stopped, sniffling, and grabbed for Harry’s hands. “I know I’ve been particularly awful to you, again, I apologize, and I’d like to explain soon if you’d care to hear it. Not now though, because you’ve obviously been through quite a bit.” Harry laughed then, and his tears fell. Draco promptly wiped them from Harry’s face with a soft hand, letting his swipe linger against Harry’s cheek, turning into a caress. 

There was a beat, as if Draco was debating whether or not to continue.

“Come home with me.”

This shocked Harry out of his state of bliss.

“What?”

Harry and Draco both noticed the way Lucius stirred at this, but because Draco paid no mind, Harry tried to do the same.

“I want you to stay with me. It’s not like we don’t have the space. You’re welcome as long as you’d like to stay,” Draco smiled, “and if that happens to be forever, then that would make me quite glad.”

Lucius opened his mouth then, as if to say something, and Draco shot him a glare almost immediately. It was almost comical, really, and it made Harry grin ear to ear as he remembered the small, terrified blond boy from that day in Knocturn Alley. Harry remembered the way his father’s very presence made Draco quiver and cower in fear, and to see him stand up to him, to be unapologetically himself; it was a feeling Harry could hardly describe. 

“Father,” Draco turned to his father completely, tightening his jaw. He was visibly nervous, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m not who you want me to be. I tried to be. But I think it’s time I was myself.”

This made Narcissa smile warmly. Draco saw this, and he hugged her fiercely.

Lucius cleared his throat, asking Draco’s attention. Draco parted from his mother and looked to his father, looking terrified.

“Son,” Lucius placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder, “we’ll prepare a room for Harry back at home.” Draco beamed.

Now it wasn’t an apology, or a promise to improve. Not literally, at least. Within those words, Lucius gave his approval, his acceptance. All through his life, that’s all Draco had ever longed for, and he understood what was meant by it. Much like Harry, Draco had now too defeated his demons, his monsters.   
This time, Harry was kissing Draco.

However awkward he felt in front of Draco’s parents, he didn’t care. He had watched Draco grow; he had watched him become who he was and he had watched him stand up for himself. Harry didn’t entirely forgive him yet. He deserved to hear the explanation that Draco would give, but agreed now was not the time nor place. All that mattered was that Draco was in his arms and his lips were on Harry’s. Draco’s tear stained cheeks were flush and his face was pulled up in a grin as he giggled into the kiss.   
Parting, Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s. He was close enough to feel the warmth of Draco’s laugh against his lips, and a feeling bubbled up inside his stomach that he knew he had to share.

“I love you.”

Draco’s giggle ceased as he gave a cautious glance into Harry’s eyes and ducked away into his shoulder. 

“Do you still?”

Harry felt this question against his skin and heard it soft and worried in his ear. 

“Of course, Draco.”

A smile bloomed on Draco’s face again; Harry felt the grin against his skin.

“I love you, too, Harry,” Draco stood straight, looking into Harry’s eyes with an unspoken promise. “Now, let’s go home.”


	21. Epilogue: Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gay dorks finally catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Well, looks like this is really it. I hope you enjoy this, just a small dose of smut to make up for all the angst. Hope you enjoy!

It had been a month or so since the war.

Things were looking up, though. At least, that’s how Harry felt when he turned over, still half asleep, to look at him.  


Draco.

The morning sunlight poured in through the window graciously, bathing Draco in an eloquent golden light. He looked so peaceful while he was sleeping, which, granted, may be a bit creepy to note, but the peace was everything that Harry needed.

The steady rise and fall of Draco’s breathing almost lulled Harry back to sleep again. He couldn’t help but to reach out to touch Draco, fingers feather light upon his face. Draco stirred. His blonde eyelashes, shiny with sunlight, fluttered open, his expression laden with drowse. He turned to look at Harry, his light eyes soft with fondness as Harry gently swiped his fingers across his soft, pale cheek. With a sleepy stretch and a groan, a smile bloomed on Draco’s face, and he returned his gaze to Harry, a lot more awake this time. Harry was in absolute awe.

“Hmm. Good morning.”

Harry’s smile bloomed then, too, as he moved his hand from Draco’s cheek up into his soft, blonde hair, still messy with sleep. Harry wanted to will time to stop just for the two of them right then, Draco’s deep, groggy morning voice greeting him almost as warm as the sunlight he sat in and Harry feeling like although much had gone wrong in the past, nothing would or could ever go wrong ever again.

"Good morning."

Draco leaned to meet Harry then, meeting him in a chaste kiss. Harry chased his lips as he retreated with a giggle, lying back down into his pillow. Harry followed him to connect their lips again, all smiles and softness, and Harry's lips caught every one of Draco's giggles as Draco's did for his.  
When the giggling died, however, their kiss flourished. Draco's cold, slender fingers found a comfortable place nestled in Harry's messy curls as Harry teased the hem of Draco's shirt. Slipping a hand underneath the fabric to smooth across the soft skin of Draco's belly elicited a gasp from him, making Harry smile into their kiss again.  
He continued to move under the cloth, dragging it further up as he grazed a hand over Draco's chest, which brought on another gasp. This time, though, the gasp did not make Harry giggle, but rather made him flush. He could feel the steady heat rising in his cheeks, rising in their kiss as he slipped his tongue in against Draco's. His hand retreated from Draco's chest, teasingly inching farther down, and as he reached the elastic of the pants Draco was wearing, pants he was borrowing from Harry, he gave the waistband a teasing snap. 

Draco leaned into Harry's touch as it inched closer to where it mattered most, and at the playful neglect, he let out a reluctant whine against Harry's lips. Harry seemed to relish in the noise, seemed to sip it from Draco's mouth as it escaped.  
The noise was rewarding for both parties, it seemed. For Harry's ego, yes, as well as for Draco's sanity, as the noise permitted the playful teasing to end and the real business to take over. 

Harry gripped the waistband again, but this time, not to let go, but to pull it out of his way, exposing Draco's growing hard on to the cool morning air.  
This made Draco hiss as much as it made Harry smile. Draco gave a tug to Harry's hair as a warning, which only turned his smile into a giggle, and Draco couldn't find it in himself to be irritated at him. In response to the tug, Harry nipped at Draco's chin, and across to Draco's earlobe, where he gave a playful tug back. It was Draco's turn to giggle this time, but the giggling was soon ceased and replaced with a quick gasp as Harry took hold of him. 

All it took to bring Draco to full attention was a soft, slow tug. He released his gasp with a breathy, low groan, and tilted his head back into his pillow. Harry couldn't help but stare at the sight before him, Draco, completely unravelled, arching into his touch, eyed lidded, cheeks flush. It was hard for him to keep his own composure watching Draco, normally prim, proper and uptight, lose his. 

He gave another stroke, this time lingering near the tip to brush a thumb across the slit. Draco's eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip to hold back his sound. Taking Draco's exposed neck as an opportunity, Harry moved to press hot, open mouthed kisses there, continuing his work on Draco's hard on.  
Draco gasped and arched into Harry's touch. He became a shade redder than before, somehow, and after a few more tugs and an abundance of noises and picture worthy expressions, he came hot and plentiful into Harry's hand. 

After he could regain composure and Harry could wipe his hand, Draco tugged him hard into a kiss. 

They kissed lazily for a while like that, tired and nearly ready to go back to sleep for the day, when Harry parted from Draco's lips.

Looking at Draco, still wearing the sweet morning sunlight, cheeks pink and eyes soft just for him, Harry could've cried. He could've gotten down on his knees right at that moment and begged for the gods to let him stay there forever, with Draco by his side, looking at him with an infinite tenderness his normally cold eyes didn't hold for anyone except for Harry. He felt his heart speed, and butterflies soared in his stomach, and he felt like a dumb, prepubescent boy, but he didn't care. 

He rested his palm against Draco's cheek again, and Draco leaned into it, just as before.

"Draco," he started, searching for his gaze, "Marry me."

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise, widened his light eyes. He looked at Harry with hesitation, as if to ask 'are you sure?' but before he could ask, before he could have any doubts, Harry smiled at him, bright eyed and spontaneous and in love, and Draco's expression resolved with it.

"I'd love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, looks like this is the end. I know that updates have been a bit inconsistent, and I apologize, but I am very glad and very grateful to everyone who has made it to this point and has stuck with my story with patience. Thank you all for the reads, the kudos, and the comments, as that is what fueled me to continue. So again, thank you for paying attention to my silly little story. I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Much love,
> 
> malfxy xoxo


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